At the front door she stopped. She heard talking in the front room, but this only increased her feeling of loneliness and helplessness. Instinctively she felt that the men there would only laugh. She peeped out. The cabin doorway was empty, but it had been empty the first time. Steps approached in the room. She slipped out and ran to the right in front of the house, till she came to the yew that held dark foliage over the garden wall. Its reddy scabbed trunk was built in with the gritstone, a part of the wall. Stepping on one of its roots, as on a ladder rung, she was safe over in two seconds. Five yards away, on the other side of the gateway out of the yard into the meadow, yellow light flowed from an open door. It set up a kind of magnetism, so that she moved towards it without conscious intention, and found herself looking into a four-shippon which she had not seen before, Under the first cow, looking up questioningly, sat Mr. Nadin.
“Eh, lass, come ta help?” he welcomed her.
Hesitantly she told him, “No, I . . . I’m supposed to be siding the cabin.”
He seemed to guess at once and said, “If it’s one o’ those b’s gettin’ fresh, tell me which an’ I’ll neck-an’-crop him into the water.” He said it quietly, as if to do what he threatened would be a simple, pleasant job. He went on stripping slickly, making the last quick draws at the fore teats and at the rear teats. “Where was it, in the cabin?” he went on, guessing from her silence that she would not tell which one it was. “They’re a pesterin’, idling set. If I had my way . . .” His unusual loquaciousness ended as he heaved his weight off the stool and swung the milk bucket up. He went to the other end of the shippon and let himself into the yard, as though deserting her. She heard milk running, and then he was coming back. Stooping, he set the empty bucket on his stool by the wall, and without a word went in front of her into the field and round by the garden corner. Flo kept three paces behind till near the cabin doubt made her go slower. He stepped in, looked round briefly, and in a moment was coming out.
“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.”