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 that be born in a business always know more about it than any ‘prentice. Besides, that’s only just a show of something for you to do, that you midn’t feel dependent.’

‘I don’t altogether think I ought to go’, said Tess thoughtfully. ‘Who wrote the letter? Will you let me look at it?’

’Mrs. D’Urberville wrote it. Here it is.’

The letter was in the third person, and briefly informed Mrs. Durbeyfield that her daughter’s services would be useful to that lady in the management of her poultry-farm, that a comfortable room would be provided for her if she could come, and that the emolument would be on a liberal scale if they liked her.

’Oh—that’s all!’ said Tess.

‘You couldn’t expect her to throw her arms round ’ee, an’ to kiss and to coll ’ee all at once.’

Tess looked out of the window.

‘I would rather stay here with father and you,’ she said, nervously reflecting.

‘But why?’

‘I’d rather not tell you why, mother; indeed, I don’t quite know why.’

A week afterwards she came in one evening