“If you have any more trouble, tell me . . . I’ll cure ’em.”
He went back with long slow strides. Flo began hastily on the siding that had been so long delayed. She was relieved; she knew what she would do if there was further trouble. Fortunately, she did not have to go into the front room, being put to washing up while Dot attended on the men. It was half-past eleven again before everything was finished, and the idea that Flo should have, at least, a little of the day to herself never came up at all.
“Good neet. Five o’clock in the mornin’,” said Mrs. Nadin, as briskly as if she had done nothing all day.
Although Flo was out of bed before the big bell had finished tossing, and though she dressed without delay, she found Mrs. Nadin leaning over the bacon-board with a stack of rashers already cut. Flo was sent out at once to light the boiler fire, and told not to waste time, because the front room table had to be set. Breakfast was to be at six, but the first of the visitors did not come down till ten past. It was the big man with the growth on his nose. He sat without speaking, and at once forked up and pushed into his mouth the brownest piece of bacon off his plate. The young man did not come till twenty-five minutes past, Flo had put his plate ready beforehand, and kept away from him, but he was gloomy, and seemed to have forgotten all about the previous evening. She realized that she had been foolish to let the affair worry her. Nevertheless, she resolved to be careful with him. She was surprised when the big man asked if the trap was ready. She went into the kitchen and asked. Mr. Nadin interrupted the regular spooning up of his porridge to say:
“I’d trap the b . . . rs. Are yo’ supplyin’ ’em with cotton-wool ta lap themsel’s up in, Ma?”
“I’ll supply it to stop your great gob,” retorted Mrs. Nadin. “If you ever talk sense, it’ll choke you.”
“If he’s to waste his time drivin’ that useless crew, I’ll take Flo,” he said still quietly, but in a much more determined way.
“Tek who you like so long as you get out o’ mi way. I’ll come an’ milk ’em mysen an’ wash wi’ t’other hand, if you like,” she offered. “Tha met think tha’s get all th’ cows in creation ta milk, but there’s a two-three elsewhere, even if there is no bigger fool milkin’ ’em.”
She crossed briskly into the pantry. Her husband showed no annoyance, but when he unslung his cap from its nail he nodded briefly to Flo. It was nice to get into the yard into the morning freshness. She felt jaded, and it eased her. The farmer filled a bucket from the trough, and took down a cloth which had been drying on a nail just outside the shippon door. The bucket he set down on the shippon gangway. The cloth was soaked, and then partially wrung. Spreading it over his right hand, he caught the first cow’s tail with his left hand, curled it up and rested his weight on it, on the animal’s hip. Stooping, he reached between the cow’s legs from behind and carefully wiped its bag, as far as he could, and wiped the rear teats. Then leaning over to the right he finished off the fore part of the bag and the fore teats.
“Think you con manage?” he asked, handing her the cloth.
Flo rinsed it and went to the second cow. This was more nervous, and as she caught its tail it swung its rear end across the stall.
“Come over, you fool,” ordered the farmer, and it at once jumped back, nearly bowling Flo down. She caught its tail again. It jerked strenuously, but she held on and imprisoned it on the beast’s hip, and leaned down and began gingerly to wipe. The beast flinched, then stood stiltedly, though Flo could feel it tense, ready to leap away at the least hurt. She used a kind of massage movement and was gentle, and the cow eased.
“You’ll manage,” said Mr. Nadin.
He went to rinse his hands in the trough, and came back with his bucket, and soon milk was sizzing pleasantly into the bottom of it. Clem came in, and then there was a duet. Clem raised his eyebrows at Flo, but did not speak. Flo became more used to her job and began to be amused, and wondered what her mother and Ivy would have said. Most of the cattle, after a brief first attempt to free their tails, seemed to understand and gave no trouble. Before going to the four-shippon she got fresh water. When she had finished she wondered whether she was expected to go back to the house, but there was a calm sort of friendliness about the cattle and in the shippon, and she was reluctant to go in. Mr. Nadin, however, seemed to be expecting her to stay, for as soon as he saw her idle he told her to feed the calves. He had ready a bucket of milk which he instructed her to dilute a little. The calves behaved as though they were famished, nearly charging her over and spilling everything. They thrust their noses in too deep, and got froth and milk up their nostrils, and snorted and coughed and made a great to-do, all the time shoving jealously, sure that their neighbours were getting more.
“You greedy, silly things,” shouted Flo; but they took no notice. They drained the bucket quicker than it could have been done by a pump.
Flo looked over into the empty stall and wondered where the bull-calf was, and whether it was still tied up to the neck in the sack; and she thought of Jack Knight, and wondered whether he would come for any of the other calves. She was going back to the shippon when Mrs. Nadin knocked on the kitchen window and beckoned briskly. Flo groaned and kept the bucket in her hand, as proof that she was busy.
“Tek them things an’ put them to soak,” ordered Mrs. Nadin, nodding to an immense heap of sheets by the door.
“I’m supposed . . .”
“Ne’er mind that old fool. Let ’im do summat ’isself. Work never killed anyone an’ ’e’s as tough as muck. If tha lets him, ’ell have you runnin’ th’ farm. Cleanliness is next ta godliness, an’ a darn seet more important on washin’ day.”
Flo went with the clothes and shoved them in the oak-spale tub, and tipped cold water on and jabbed them with the boiler stick as if she was determined to drown them.
“’Ere,” said Mrs. Nadin, entering unexpectedly, “tha’ll wear ’em out. Souse ’em under, but tha dunna need ta punce holes in ’em.”
She lifted the lid off the boiler and sniffed the steam. She snicked the fire-door open and poked vigorously with a long iron like a ram-rod. She shot more coal in and smacked the door to with a clang.
After breakfast Dot was left to side and wash up and tidy the house while Flo went back to the wash-house. Mrs. Nadin rolled her sleeves, revealing arms brown and plump, which she plunged into the hottest water without hesitation. She had seemed to enjoy baking, but she seemed to enjoy washing more. When the boiler lid was lifted and steam boiled up, she stood on a milking stool and dug in with the stick with all the zest of a child after the best prize in the fish-pool. Out came sheets and pillow-cases and bolsters, and were swung adroitly over into the bucket balanced by Flo on the side. They dropped in with a souse and an uprush of more steam. Flo felt moist all over; her clothes were clammy, almost as if she had had a hot bath with them on. Then she mangled and everything had to go through three times. Mrs. Nadin planted the stool at the mangle end and kept getting up and giving the screw on top an extra part-turn till Flo could hardly get the rollers round.
“Good manglin’ saves hours o’ waiting” said Mrs. Nadin succinctly.
At last the first basket was ready, and they went out to hang the line. One end was slipped over a hook, deep driven in the yew, and there was a stump twenty yards off in the meadow. After being taken round this the end was carried back to the corner of the four-shippon, giving a fine triangular span, with room for everything. Wind caught the clothes and laved them gently so that Mrs. Nadin stopped by the gate with the basket empty and said with unusual placidity: “That’s a bonnie sight, lass. A good washin’-day’s worth a fortune.”