Some had taken their Sunday clothes out of pawn especially for the occasion.Others were arrayed in new suits which they were going to pay for at the rate of a shilling a week.Some had bought themselves second-hand suits, one or two were wearing their working clothes brushed and cleaned up, and some were wearing Sunday clothes that had not been taken out of pawn for the simple reason that the pawnbrokers would not take them in.These garments were in what might be called a transition stage - old-fashioned and shiny with wear, but yet too good to take for working in, even if their owners had been in a position to buy some others to take their place for best.Crass, Slyme and one or two of the single men, however, were howling swells, sporting stand-up collars and bowler hats of the latest type, in contradistinction to some of the others, who were wearing hats of antique patterns, and collars of various shapes with jagged edges.Harlow had on an old straw hat that his wife had cleaned up with oxalic acid, and Easton had carefully dyed the faded binding of his black bowler with ink.
Their boots were the worst part of their attire: without counting Rushton and his friends, there were thirty-seven men altogether, including Nimrod, and there were not half a dozen pairs of really good boots amongst the whole crowd.
When all were seated a fresh start was made.The small brake, with Rushton, Didlum, Grinder and two or three other members of the Band, led the way.Next came the largest brake with Misery on the box.
Beside the driver of the third brake was Payne, the foreman carpenter.
Crass occupied a similar position of honour on the fourth brake, on the back step of which was perched the man with the coachman's horn.
Crass - who had engaged the brakes - had arranged with the drivers that the cortege should pass through the street where he and Easton lived, and as they went by Mrs Crass was standing at the door with the two young men lodgers, who waved their handkerchiefs and shouted greetings.A little further on Mrs Linden and Easton's wife were standing at the door to see them go by.In fact, the notes of the coachman's horn alarmed most of the inhabitants, who crowded to their windows and doors to gaze upon the dismal procession as it passed.
The mean streets of Windley were soon left far behind and they found themselves journeying along a sunlit, winding road, bordered with hedges of hawthorn, holly and briar, past rich, brown fields of standing corn, shimmering with gleams of gold, past apple-orchards where bending boughs were heavily loaded with mellow fruits exhaling fragrant odours, through the cool shades of lofty avenues of venerable oaks, whose overarched and interlacing branches formed a roof of green, gilt and illuminated with quivering spots and shafts of sunlight that filtered through the trembling leaves; over old mossy stone bridges, spanning limpid streams that duplicated the blue sky and the fleecy clouds; and then again, stretching away to the horizon on every side over more fields, some rich with harvest, others filled with drowsing cattle or with flocks of timid sheep that scampered away at the sound of the passing carriages.Several times they saw merry little companies of rabbits frisking gaily in and out of the hedges or in the fields beside the sheep and cattle.At intervals, away in the distance, nestling in the hollows or amid sheltering trees, groups of farm buildings and stacks of hay; and further on, the square ivy-clad tower of an ancient church, or perhaps a solitary windmill with its revolving sails alternately flashing and darkening in the rays of the sun.Past thatched wayside cottages whose inhabitants came out to wave their hands in friendly greeting.Past groups of sunburnt, golden-haired children who climbed on fences and five-barred gates, and waved their hats and cheered, or ran behind the brakes for the pennies the men threw down to them.
From time to time the men in the brakes made half-hearted attempts at singing, but it never came to much, because most of them were too hungry and miserable.They had not had time to take any dinner and would not have taken any even if they had the time, for they wished to reserve their appetites for the banquet at the Queen Elizabeth, which they expected to reach about half past three.However, they cheered up a little after the first halt - at the Blue Lion, where most of them got down and had a drink.Some of them, including the Semi-drunk, Ned Dawson, Bill Bates and Joe Philpot - had two or three drinks, and felt so much happier for them that, shortly after they started off again, sounds of melody were heard from the brake the three first named rode in - the one presided over by Crass - but it was not very successful, and even after the second halt - about five miles further on - at the Warrior's Head, they found it impossible to sing with any heartiness.Fitful bursts of song arose from time to time from each of the brakes in turn, only to die mournfully away.It is not easy to sing on an empty stomach even if one has got a little beer in it; and so it was with most of them.They were not in a mood to sing, or to properly appreciate the scenes through which they were passing.They wanted their dinners, and that was the reason why this long ride, instead of being a pleasure, became after a while, a weary journey that seemed as if it were never coming to an end.
