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.”
“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.”