“You want a cold-water bandage,” advised Mr. Nadin, who had come from his chair more slowly. “It’s begun ta swell.”
“You dunna say,” exclaimed Mrs. Nadin, plucking at the laces. She knelt with the foot on her knee. “Bring cold water, Dot. Let’s have your stockin’ off.” Flo fumbled, trying to keep her skirt down. “Eh, it winna kill if they see thi breeches,” said Mrs. Nadin impatiently. “Tha’s messed thi knees up, an aw. What the heck wert doin’?”
She bathed the ankle and tightly bound it with a long strip of soaked linen. Hands and knees she bathed with salt water, and when Flo flinched she told her to “hold thisel’ still. This is nowt ta what tha’ll get when tha gooes ta hell.” But Flo felt confidence in her and in the farmer who stood over them till all was done. In the night her ankle throbbed and she could not sleep. Her breast had gone a reddy blue underneath and she would have liked to have bathed that also, but she was too shy to say anything. She cupped her hand under it and the warmth seemed to ease the soreness. In the morning the bell jangled as usual. She sat up, not knowing what to do. Almost at once she heard Mrs. Nadin’s unmistakable quick flat tread and the door snapped open.
“How d’you feel? You’re a bonnie one. Scatterbrained as a pullet, eh? I canna mess naa, but after breakfast we’ll try bathin’ wi’ hot.” She inspected the foot with her candle. “Eh, that’s non so bad; you’ll be able to milk any’ow. I’ve brought thee a carpet slipper.”
Flo hobbled, therefore, as best she could, though milking was easier than she had expected because she could hold her foot straight out under the cows’ bellies. Bert and Clem were out mowing again, so that Dot had to milk more. She never asked Flo about her foot, but ignored her, as if her injury were bogus. Mr. Nadin told Flo to manage what she could. “Let missis fettle it; oo’s a good ’un.”
After breakfast the foot was bathed with hot water and then with cold, and it began to feel easier. Flo was left to clean the brass candlesticks and the knives, forks and spoons. Then on a chair at the sink she peeled potatoes and after that Mrs. Nadin left her on the settee with a great pile of stockings.
“It’s well to be some folks; I think I’ll strain my ankle,” said Dot.
Only the sun was shining, and Mr. Nadin said that next day the first hay would be ready for turning and Flo felt that she had made a fool of herself. Why, after leaving Dick, had she run down hill like that? She had told Mrs. Nadin that it was because she was late and knew that they would be wondering what had become of her. She wondered if Dick would hear; and whether he would come and see her. But of course not.
And next day, Wednesday, he came.
“You don’t mind, Mrs. Nadin? But I feel it was my fault for letting her help me.”
“If she conna stick on her feet, it’s a beggar,” commented Mrs. Nadin pertly. “What’ll she do when oo gets ta my age?”
Flo was still darning.
“Whatever did you do?” asked Dick, strutting in on his sticks. He dropped on the other end of the settee, a yard away, partly facing her. Flo went rosy.
“It wasn’t your fault. It’s like missis says: if I can’t stick on my own feet . . .” She laughed and jabbed the big needle too far. She winced. “See, I can’t even darn without hurting myself.”
They both laughed.
“She would go an’ do it just when hay’s down,” said Mrs. Nadin, bustling from the pantry. “There’s two crocks together of you naa.” There was no unkindness; it was simply a brisk comment. And she went on to ask about Dick’s people. While he answered Flo recovered. She glanced sideways and noticed anew the dark smoothness of his skin. If only he had not been paralysed, how young and handsome he would have looked!
Mrs. Nadin bustled out again and he asked Flo how many stitches she put each way. As many as were needed, she told him.
“Isn’t it monotonous?”
“I’d sooner be out in the field,” said Flo.
“I bet you would; so should I.”
“Then go; don’t let me keep you,” said Flo suddenly, teasing.
“Gee, I didn’t mean that,” he protested. “I meant, if I was you.”
“I don’t know; I only know what you said,” returned Flo. Dick laughed, and then Dot came down the passage.
“You, Mr. Goldbourn! Whatever are you doing?” and from that moment she monopolized him. He got up and stood leaning on his sticks with his back to Flo, and she couldn’t help noticing how big and heavy his body was compared with his legs. She was glad when he said he would be going down to the lake.
“And let’s hope I shan’t get stuck, ’cos to-day Flo can’t help me,” he said with a quick smile to her.
“Bert and Clem will be in the field if you shout,” said Dot coldly.
They watched him get heavily into his chair. Flo felt sad about him, yet when he had stood so close in front of her, heavy and stunted, he had been a bit repulsive. She felt mean about it, but the feeling was there. She brooded on it while she went on darning.