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THE MAIDEN
VII
On the morning appointed for her departure Tess was awake before dawn—at the marginal minute of the dark when the grove is still mute, save for one prophetic bird who sings with a clear-voiced conviction that he at least knows the correct time of day, the rest preserving silence as if equally convinced that he is mistaken. She remained upstairs packing till breakfast-time, and then came down in her ordinary weekday clothes, her Sunday apparel being carefully folded in her box.
Her mother expostulated. ‘You will never set out to see your folks without dressing up more the dand than that?’
‘But I am going to work!’ said Tess.
‘Well, yes’, said Mrs. Durbeyfield; and, in a private tone, ‘at first there may be a little pre-
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