“Yes,” said Flo, aware of the difference in whiteness between the washing there and that that her mother did.
Going slowly to and fro along the right-hand side of the field was Mr. Nadin, leading Colonel, the shire, with a roller, which clanked pleasantly every now and then.
Clem had gone to the station with the half-legged horse, Job, with the milk. Flo did not know where Bert was. She went back with Mrs. Nadin, and after the new-grass brightness and blowiness of the meadow, the wash-house seemed duller and more confining than before. Flo saw little sweat “blisters” all over Mrs. Nadin’s forehead, and her straight hair plastered itself on her little round cranium almost as if it were grey and black paint. The second basket was filled with shirts and handkerchiefs, and Flo took it out unaided. As she was pegging the last of the things, she saw Mr. Nadin walking up.
“You con manage Colonel,” he said quietly. “Go on rolling . . . I’ve another job.”
“But I . . . I’m helping Missis,” exclaimed Flo, astonished.
“That’s all right; I’ll see ’er,” and he went on to the yard.
Flo left the basket and walked to where Colonel was standing, apparently almost asleep, nodding, so that every now and then his nose fell on the stiff thorn spikes of the hedge and made him start. Twenty seconds afterwards he would nod and prick himself again. Flo said, “Wake up,” and hooked her hand in the ring by his mouth as she had seen the others do. She thought it strange that Mr. Nadin should have left her to find out about the job herself. Self-consciously she said, “Gee up!” in as gruff a voice as she could. Colonel tilted his ears very slightly but stayed solid. She tugged and the old gelding let his head follow her hand, but his body stayed where it was and the shafts with it. At the extent of his neck reach his head stopped, and though Flo tugged her hardest, this had no further effect.
“Come up; don’t be so soft,” panted Flo, using both hands.
Suddenly the heavy gelding seemed to lose balance, plunged his near fore-foot eighteen inches to the right and swayed as if about to fall on her. But he did not. The only result was that; he shifted himself and the shafts and the roller eighteen inches, but the effort must have exhausted him for he went solid again and appeared about to fall asleep completely. Flo did not know what to do. His spasmodic lurch had scared her. She tugged once more, though not with the same vim, and this time not even his head would come. She wondered whether he were sick, or perhaps tired out. She laid her hand on his smooth chestnut neck just above his collar and was surprised by the warmth. He inclined his head a little towards her and let his lower lip fall loosely and moved his tongue so that his bit clinked. She grasped his ring to try again and caught sight of Mr. Nadin coming from the gate. Realizing how she had wasted time she made a last big effort, but Colonel was set, immovable.
“How many rounds?” asked Mr. Nadin.
“I . . . I couldn’t start,” said Flo.
“Bejabez, why not?” he inquired gravely.
“I think there must be something the matter with him.”
The farmer took the bit, Colonel braced himself. The roller began to turn and they went down the meadow at a measured walk. Flo stared, undecided whether it was Colonel’s joke or Mr. Nadin’s. When she got back to the wash-house Mrs. Nadin asked briskly where she had been, but ducked into the tub without waiting to hear. She was rubbing flannels and to reach to the bottom she had to put head and shoulders in the tub; she looked so comical that Flo could not help smiling. Mrs. Nadin popping up caught her.
“Stick your own wooden yead in,” she ordered, standing aside.
Flo bent unwillingly. Suddenly her skirt was snatched up, and she was smacked smartly. She jerked up, scarlet, but Mrs. Nadin grinned till her features were all puckered together.
“You’d do with some fat on your buttocks,” was her only comment.
Flo went out with more clothes. The roller had worked nearer. As she finished, Mr. Nadin stopped twenty yards off and beckoned.
“You let ’im bamboozle you. You’d better have another try or you’ll never do any good,” he said. Colonel turned his near ear so that its opening was towards them. “Tuck him under the belly with this if ’e winna go . . . it’s his tender spot,” the farmer went on, handing over a pliant ash shoot. “Keep level with where yo’ see I’ve bin.”
He said “Gee op!” calmly and without any other encouragement the gelding began trundling the roller again. Flo had to do a little run to catch up. For fifty yards the roller went jauntily, then it turned with a little less speed, and after a hundred yards it was travelling at a most melancholy crawl.
“Gee up; what are you trying to do?” demanded Flo, attempting to drag Colonel quicker. But all he did was hold back till at last the roller barely revolved, and then it stopped. Flo saw Mr. Nadin watching. He made a gesture that could not be mistaken. Without saying anything she brought the ash stick up smartly under the generous curve of Colonel’s belly. He almost fell through his collar and jerked the roller after him as if it were nothing. Flo was only a little less surprised than he was and nearly got the roller over her foot. After that, whenever Colonel showed sign of dallying, the least reminder of the stick was enough. As she approached the willows she felt nervous of the turn, but Colonel knew how to turn all right. He simply sat back on his breeching and screwed the roller round with minimum effort. He moiled some of the grass off, but that he didn’t mind; and Flo had no suspicion that he ought not to have done it that way. When she faced to the house the farmer had gone. She changed sides so that she could keep watch better that the roller did not overlap too much the part that was already done. She noticed how vivid the contrast of the greens was; dark on the strips like the one they had just finished where the grass was bent towards her, light on the alternate strips where the grass leaned away. Colonel nodded on, not as fast as he had done at first, but steadily, as if he had accepted her, and she had time to glance back and notice that then all the strips were different, the dark ones light, and the light turned dark. It was so simple, yet it surprised and pleased her, and she decided to tell her mother about it in her next letter.
She thought how much better it was walking down the field than being steamed in the wash-house. Mrs. Nadin hadn’t seemed to care much when she had stayed before, so perhaps she would not mind this time; and no doubt Mr. Nadin would soon come back. Therefore Flo gave herself to the morning and felt something of the fertile promise of the earth. It was not nearly all new grass yet, but the new spikes that there were stood up with tender eagerness that even Flo could recognize. Colonel occasionally clicked his hoofs as if even he felt gay now that he had really got going. They approached the hedge. A thrush was in an alder which had brown catkins, like frilling, hanging on the branches. The thrush had its breast towards the sun as if proud of his speckled front and his beak opened to the limit and the feathers moved on his blown-out throat. The girl and the horse and everyone else he ignored. Flo stared, amused and happy, because she had never seen a bird so close so engrossed with song. Colonel slowed, without instruction and stopped with his nose just over the hedge. Flo started at a familiar voice.
“Yo’re non keepin’ straight,” it said. “Making th’ job spin out, I reckon.”
She peeped over and almost level saw Jack Knight on the near side of his float. He smiled. His fair hair stood up in front amusingly.