I don't want fine words; they never pulled anybody out of the ditch that I've heard tell of." Whatever the bailiff's trouble had been, it seemed to be lightened to-day, Ellen thought; and yet that unusual noisy gaiety of his gave her an uncomfortable feeling: it did not seem natural or easy.
Her household work was done by noon, and she dressed hurriedly, while her father called for her impatiently from below--standing at the foot of the wide bare old staircase, and bawling up to her that they should be late at Wyncomb.

She looked very pretty in her neat dark-blue merino dress and plain linen collar, when she came tripping downstairs at last, flushed with the hurry of her toilet, and altogether so bright a creature that it seemed a hard thing she should not be setting out upon some real pleasure trip, instead of that most obnoxious festival to which she was summoned.
Her father looked at her with a grim kind of approval.
"You'll do well enough, lass," he said; "but I should like you to have had something smarter than that blue stuff.

I wouldn't have minded a couple of pounds or so to buy you a silk gown.

But you'll be able to buy yourself as many silk gowns as ever you like by-and-by, if you play your cards well and don't make a fool of yourself." Ellen knew what he meant well enough, but did not care to take any notice of the speech.

The time would soon come, no doubt, when she must take her stand in direct opposition to him, and in the meanwhile it would be worse than foolish to waste breath in idle squabbling.
They were to drive to Wyncomb in the bailiff's gig; rather an obsolete vehicle, with a yellow body, a mouldy leather apron, and high wheels picked out with red, drawn by a tall gray horse that did duty with the plough on ordinary occasions.