"It's true, Miss Newson. We'll hear news of this some day depend on't,
and who it was that did it. I wouldn't stand for it hindering myself;
but you, Miss Newson----"

"I don't mind--much,' she replied.

"Neither do I."

They lapsed again into silence. "You are anxious to get back to
Scotland, I suppose, Mr. Farfrae?" she inquired.

"O no, Miss Newson. Why would I be?"

"I only supposed you might be from the song you sang at the Three
Mariners--about Scotland and home, I mean--which you seemed to feel so
deep down in your heart; so that we all felt for you."

"Ay--and I did sing there--I did----But, Miss Newson"--and Donald's
voice musically undulated between two semi-tones as it always did when
he became earnest--"it's well you feel a song for a few minutes, and
your eyes they get quite tearful; but you finish it, and for all you
felt you don't mind it or think of it again for a long while. O no,
I don't want to go back! Yet I'll sing the song to you wi' pleasure
whenever you like. I could sing it now, and not mind at all?"

"Thank you, indeed. But I fear I must go--rain or no."

"Ay! Then, Miss Newson, ye had better say nothing about this hoax, and
take no heed of it. And if the person should say anything to you, be
civil to him or her, as if you did not mind it--so you'll take the
clever person's laugh away." In speaking his eyes became fixed upon
her dress, still sown with wheat husks. "There's husks and dust on you.
Perhaps you don't know it?" he said, in tones of extreme delicacy. "And
it's very bad to let rain come upon clothes when there's chaff on them.
It washes in and spoils them. Let me help you--blowing is the best."

As Elizabeth neither assented nor dissented Donald Farfrae began blowing
her back hair, and her side hair, and her neck, and the crown of her
bonnet, and the fur of her victorine, Elizabeth saying, "O, thank you,"
at every puff. At last she was fairly clean, though Farfrae, having got
over his first concern at the situation, seemed in no manner of hurry to
be gone.

"Ah--now I'll go and get ye an umbrella," he said.

She declined the offer, stepped out and was gone. Farfrae walked slowly
after, looking thoughtfully at her diminishing figure, and whistling in
undertones, "As I came down through Cannobie."

15.

At first Miss Newson's budding beauty was not regarded with much
interest by anybody in Casterbridge. Donald Farfrae's gaze, it is true,
was now attracted by th