"I am never up to my elbows, Miss, in making a pudding but one of two things do happen--either my nose must needs begin tickling, and I can't live without scratching it, or somebody knocks at the door.

Here's Mr.Boldwood wanting to see you, Miss Everdene." A woman's dress being a part of her countenance, and any disorder in the one being of the same nature with a malformation or wound in the other, Bathsheba said at once-- "I can't see him in this state.

Whatever shall I do ?" Not-at-homes were hardly naturalized in Weatherbury farmhouses, so Liddy suggested--"Say you're a fright with dust, and can't come down." "Yes--that sounds very well," said Mrs.Coggan, critically.
"Say I can't see him--that will do." Mrs.Coggan went downstairs, and returned the answer as requested, adding, however, on her own responsibility, "Miss is dusting bottles, sir, and is quite a object--that's why 'tis." "Oh, very well," said the deep voice indifferently.

"All I wanted to ask was, if anything had been heard of Fanny Robin ?" "Nothing, sir--but we may know to-night.

William Smallbury is gone to Casterbridge, where her young man lives, as is supposed, and the other men be inquiring about everywhere." The horse's tramp then recommenced and retreated, and the door closed.
"Who is Mr.Boldwood ?" said Bathsheba.
"A gentleman-farmer at Little Weatherbury." "Married ?" "No, miss." "How old is he ?" "Forty, I should say--very handsome--rather stern-looking--and rich." "What a bother this dusting is! I am always in some unfortunate plight or other," Bathsheba said, complainingly.