Francis, the
Great Cosmopolitan Equestrian and Roughrider, would
enact the part of Turpin, and she was not yet too old
and careworn to be without a little curiosity to see him.
This particular show was by far the largest and grandest
in the fair, a horde of little shows grouping themselves
under its shade like chickens around a hen. The crowd
had passed in, and Boldwood, who had been watching
all the day for an opportunity of speaking to her, seeing
her comparatively isolated, came up to her side.
"I hope the sheep have done well to-day, Mrs. Troy?"
he said, nervously.
"O yes, thank you." said Bathsheba, colour springing
up in the centre of her cheeks. "I was fortunate
enough to sell them all just as we got upon the hill, so
we hadn't to pen at all."
"And now you are entirely at leisure?"
"Yes, except that I have to see one more dealer in
two hours' time: otherwise I should be going home.
He was looking at this large tent and the announcement.
Have you ever seen the play of "Turpin's Ride to
York?" Turpin was a real man, was he not?"
"O yes, perfectly true -- all of it.
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