“Allus late; he’ll be late at his own funeral, that man,” said Mrs. Nadin to no one in particular.
After a while the farmer and the two sons came in, all with hair anyhow, and in jackets which at first glance seemed mainly holes and frayed edges. They sat morosely and mechanically spooned up the porridge.
“Going to let us have another milker, Monica?” asked the farmer.
“Am I hellas like,” came the pat retort.
He went on gulping enormous spoonfuls at an unvarying steady rate. After the last spoonful he pushed his basin into the centre and at once got up and went out without speaking again. Bert soon followed, but Clem, after pushing his basin away, rested for nearly five minutes on his elbows, hands loosely linked, arms lying in a “V”.
“Happen you’d like ta stop an’ do the housework an’ let Flo go out,” said Mrs. Nadin tersely.
“No; I’d sooner let Dot go. Where is she?” he asked in his slow manner. “Thinks she’ll retire now, I bet.” But after that he slouched out.
“She’ll not retire on me,” said Mrs. Nadin to his back. She went along the passage and from the stair foot bawled: “Now, our Dot, d’you come down, or mun I come an’ make you?”
Flo heard some sort of reply, though she was unable to catch it clearly. Mrs. Nadin came back apparently satisfied, but after a further ten minutes her impatience boiled up again.
“Go up an’ if she isna out, pull th’ clothes off an’ bring them down here,” she ordered. Thinking that she must be joking, Flo hesitated. “What are you waiting for?” Mrs. Nadin demanded. “Dunna you understand plain English?”
Flo set off, scared by the little woman’s viciousness. She was not sure even which was the right room, but she tapped on the only shut door on the first landing and got in reply an unwelcoming, “Come in.” Dorothy Nadin was still in bed, and stared questioningly. The flame of the candle on the chair near her trembled a little.
“Please, miss, you’re to get up,” Flo murmured. “Missis sent me.”
“Did she? Didn’t she send a cup of tea?”
“No,” said Flo.
“Well, don’t stop and stare.”
“She said I was to take the clothes down,” Flo explained steadily, moving a step nearer.
“Did she? You dare!”
“I . . . I don’t suppose she meant it, but she . . . she seemed to,” said Flo at a loss. “She’s . . .”
“She meant it all right; but if you try . . .”
The threat was unfinished. The speaker had not moved except to turn her head so that she could look straight at Flo. Flo shifted her weight uneasily and unconsciously ran her tongue along her top lip. “What can I tell her?”
“What you like; only get out,” said Dot; but suddenly she tossed the clothes down and sat up. She was in a pink flannel nightdress with narrow cream lace at the close neck and round the wrists. She was thinner than Flo had thought.
Dot felt her hair, which was very dark. The two legs of one of the big copper-wire pins round which it was wound had come untied and she slowly drew the pin out, leaving the lock dangling, a single absurd spiral down her left cheek. Then she seemed to become aware of Flo still waiting. “Are you stuck there?” she demanded.
“No,” Flo answered. “Shall I tell her you’re getting up?”
“No; if you want the clothes, take them; tell her I’ve done with them,” and she lifted her feet over the edge and got out with unwilling deliberation. Flo turned away and went back to the kitchen.
“Well, where’s th’ clothes?” demanded Mrs. Nadin at once.
“She’s out, so I didn’t think you’d want them,” said Flo. There was no reply.
After that Mrs. Nadin kept herself too busy to nag Flo. They washed the porridge things, and reset for breakfast. Bacon was cut in two-feet rashers which curled right round the great iron frying-pan. This bacon had only three thin lines of lean, but it smelt clean and sweet and appetizing. Two lots had been done and lay crisped on a big oval willow-pattern meat dish in the oven before Dot came down. Her lock was back in its pin, and she looked neat in an ironed overall-apron covered with tiny little marigolds.
“Lady La-di-da now, eh?” said Mrs. Nadin. “I didna take her on ta do thy work. Get toasting fork.”
Dot did not answer, but Flo felt the coolness of her antagonism. Whenever in their work they moved near one another, Dot either passed her over with an uninterested stare or looked past her as if she did not know that she was there.
“Has she bitten thee? What’s up with her as you dunna like?” demanded Mrs. Nadin unexpectedly just as the grandfather clock began to grind inwardly ready to strike seven.
“No,” said Dot, “she doesn’t trouble me. She’ll be useful for serving in the cabin, I should think.”
“Yes, an’ so will you, madam,” said Mrs. Nadin grimly.
The clock finished its chime with a sigh, thankful to get that done with, and up the path came Clem. Bert came five minutes later, but there was no sign of the farmer.