Clem happened to be mooching up the shippon. He dropped his left eyelid and arched his right eyebrow. If there were no other men in the world than Clems she would never marry, she thought. But his passing reminded her of his advice, about asking for time off. It was Thursday, just a fortnight since she had gone round the lake and rescued Dick Goldbourn. Why shouldn’t she ask? It wasn’t right that she should work Saturdays, Sundays and all days. When she went with milk to the churn again she was determined that she would ask; but she would be careful—she would wait until Mrs. Nadin seemed to be in a good mood. Despite her apparent usualness at porridge time, Flo suspected that Mrs. Nadin was still bitter about her husband’s desertion. So Flo watched and waited all morning. But, whatever Mrs. Nadin’s mood, there was scarcely an opportunity when Flo could have asked her. Flo was told to clean all the windows, and a long, difficult and quite dangerous job it was. The windows were of the sash type, but never till she came to clean them had Flo realized how big they were. Seated out on the sill with the upper half of a window down on her thighs it was all that she could do to clean the top corners. When she got to the attic at first she was too afraid to get on the sill, and tried to reach from the bottom and then over the top without sitting out. Only it was no good. The parts that she cleaned showed up the parts that she had not cleaned, and she was ashamed. She looked round her room for something with which she could tie herself to the bed, but there was nothing; a sheet would not have been long enough. So that all that she could do was put the lucky heart-stone and the green pig in her apron pocket and pray to be kept safe. She put her head out hesitantly, gripping hard on the bottom frame. And then, except for the awful thought of how far off the ground was, it was no different from doing the lower windows. She had been foolish to let the height scare her, and when the panes shone iridescently, as well done as she could do them, she dared to look about. The two views were quite different from those she normally got through the window. Rightward she looked over the lake, but across the eastern end. She was surprised to be able to see right over the willows the pear-shaped lagoon in full. There on the very tip of the point where she had walked she saw Dick Goldbourn in his wheeled chair. Out of bravado she waved, not expecting any return. Nevertheless, she was disappointed that none came. She faced petulantly the other way and saw over the ridge end of the barn the top of Adam’s Pike, like an immense grey-green pyramid. As she stared a swallow shot up from behind the barn in a smooth swift glide and came flickering towards her at express rate. It came so close that she saw its chestnut throat and purple-blue, and as it fled its confidential twitter, heard for a moment only, seemed to be meant to tell her that summer was coming and that life was good and all would be well. It was the first swallow of the year. She turned her head swiftly to watch, and the bird swooped on towards the lagoon and the distant fisherman, and then became invisible against the meshed background of the willows.
She got back into the room carefully, glad that she had risked it, but glad to be safe again. She looked at the stone and lucky pig on her palm.
“Find me a nice husband,” she whispered impulsively, and at once laughed and put them back on the dressing-table, the pig on the left just under the glass from where he regarded her quizzically, all of him tilted to one side because of his missing leg. As Flo went downstairs her thoughts flew back to the fisherman on the point; she wondered whether he had caught anything.
Dinner passed and she was never once alone with Mrs. Nadin. Then Pot went upstairs and Flo was told to swill the flags.
“Scrub ’em. I canna abide green moss; it’s the mark of a slut. Use plenty of water, an’ a good hard brush,” said Mrs. Nadin briskly. “Good clean stone’s worth lookin’ at.”
“And when that’s done, may I go out?” asked Flo, quaking.
“Heck, an’ what for?” demanded Mrs. Nadin. “You’re not runnin’ the boys already?”
“No,” said Flo, reddening. “But it was Thursday last time and I thought . . .”
“There’s no lad in pants worth runnin’ after,” the little woman broke in tartly. “I thought I’d some sense when I chose my man, an’ look at ’im! A dummy in a raffle ’ud be more obedient, an’ happen a damn seet prettier. ’Stead o’ marryin’ a man, get a pup; you con turn that loose when you’ve a mind.” She reached up into the big cupboard and seemed to have forgotten how the talk had begun.
“But may I go?” asked Flo desperately.
“Go? Ay, go to the devil, an’ marry ’im . . . happen he’s no worse than t’others.”
“I mean go out.”
“Ay,” said Mrs. Nadin keeping at her work. “I reckon you’ll be like a bitch in heat till you’ve getten what they aw get. But dunna forget them flags.”