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As the lad stood in a dubious attitude, Durbeyfield put his hand in his pocket, and produced a shilling, one of the chronically few that he possessed. ¡¡¡¡`Here's for your labour, lad.' ¡¡¡¡This made a difference in the young man's estimate of the position. ¡¡¡¡`Yes, Sir John. Thank 'ee. Anything else I can do for 'ee, Sir John?' ¡¡¡¡`Tell 'em at hwome that I should like for supper, - well, lamb's fry if they can get it; and if they can't, black-pot; and if they can't get that, well, chitterlings will do.' ¡¡¡¡`Yes, Sir John.' ¡¡¡¡The boy took up the basket, and as he set out the notes of a brass band were heard from the direction of the village. ¡¡¡¡`What's that?' said Durbeyfield. `Not on account o' I?' ¡¡¡¡`'Tis the women's club-walking, Sir John. Why, your dater is one o' the members.' ¡¡¡¡`To be sure - I'd quite forgot it in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.' ¡¡¡¡The lad departed, and Durbeyfield lay waiting on the grass and daisies in the evening sun. Not a soul passed that way for a long while, and the faint notes of the band were the only human sounds audible within the rim of blue hills.