She bought a programme to find where the cattle were, and they walked slowly through the crowd. The ground was soft and seemed likely to be badly churned up before the day’s end, but there was no rain. The band of the Gordon Highlanders playing marches and the good temper of nearly everybody made even the greyness seem cheerful. Mrs. Nadin said it wasn’t likely that “the old devil” would be crushing by the ring; most probably he’d be mooching round the pens arguing with “some of t’other Moss riff-raff”. Here the crowd was not nearly as mixed as at the main ring, or round the flower and poultry marquees which they had passed. There were very few women, and plainly the men were practically all farmers or farm-men. Flo gazed round for Mr. Nadin in his bowler hat above the rest. She wondered whatever would happen when they did find him. Then almost at once her attention was taken by a throaty challenge, not very loud, yet somehow as threatening as a roar. She glanced apprehensively towards where it came from and saw a massive red bull. Its feet were smothered in wheat straw and it seemed all body, its back as level and broad as an old-time mahogany dresser. It stretched its neck, tilting its thick muzzle, and bawled again. Its horns were thicker than Flo’s wrists and looked at strong as iron. She had only a glimpse before two farmers moved together in front of the red and blue cards hanging on the pen front, but she craned back in the hope of getting another look at the beast. Instead she found herself staring straight at Jack Knight, just behind.
“You here!” he exclaimed.
“Seen that tripe-yead o’ mine?” demanded Mrs. Nadin, ignoring his greeting.
“Emmott? Ay, he were with Bill Willox over by th’ best dairy cow,” Jack answered, indicating with a slanting of his head. “Want tekkin’ to ’im?”
“Ay,” said Mrs. Nadin. “He’s best copped while he’s sober.”
Jack grinned but went ahead, with Mrs. Nadin following and Flo last. They pushed through narrow alleys between pens, they went up rows and down rows. To Flo it began to seem hopeless, and then there he was bolt straight with heavily wrinkled brow staring down his nose into a catalogue held nearly on a level with his chin, as if it was the most involved document he had ever studied. Mrs. Nadin made almost a bound. At the last moment, without change of attitude, he swivelled his eyes down on her in a most comical way.
“You!” he ejaculated, but with much less surprise than Flo had expected. “How the heck did you get?”
“Slid on mi backside down th’ telephone wires,” retorted Mrs, Nadin, swiping the catalogue from under his chin with her umbrella. “You old sod, thought you’d get away, didna you? I’m non so green-cheesy as I look. I’m havin’ a day as well as thee, an’ you’re payin’!”
A few curious persons were watching, but Mr. Nadin shrugged and said “Oh.”
“Ay, an’ first thing, claw out five bob for ’er,” nodding at Flo.
His hand went under the point of his jacket into the cross-pocket of his trousers.
“An’ a quid for yoursel’ an’ we’ll part,” he suggested.
“Noa likely,” said Mrs. Nadin. “Naa I’ve got you I stick. If you goo gallivantin’, I goo. Where’ll oo meet us?”
The farmer looked musingly on the two half-crowns on his palm. “How’d you get,” he asked, “by train? Chara I come in were full; there’d be noo room for . . .”
“Then there’ll be noo bother, we’ll all goo back by train,” said Mrs. Nadin promptly. “Five-thirty. Oo con meet us at th’ main gate at five.” She picked the half-crowns up and thrust them at Flo. “You’ll non want ta be cluckin’ round two old fowls like us all day; mek th’ best on it. An’ dunna forget ta be at th’ main gate.”
Flo started to thank her, but she turned away without listening, making towards the nearest dinner-tent, and the farmer, after a slow droop of his right eyelid, followed.
“Where you goin’?” Flo heard Jack Knight ask from behind. He had not spoken since their meeting with Mr. Nadin, and she had momentarily forgotten him. “If you dunna know your way about, come wi’ me,” he invited. “Rum cup o’ tea, them two, eh? Shell stick to ’im like a shadow all day. When they’re at home she’s boss all right; but when he’s out of her sight she’s like a cow without its calf.”
“She made me come with her . . . just so he’d have to pay,” said Flo, laughing uneasily. “Won’t I be a nuisance?”
“Come on,” he said abruptly, ignoring her question. “There’s a lot o’ things I want ta see, but you say what you want an’ we’ll work ’em in best as we can.”
He went sturdily just a little ahead of her.
“There’s nothing I know of. It . . . it’s all new to me,” said Flo. “Anything’s all right . . .”
“You’ll want ta see the flowers, anyway. I should think best time’s now, before the afternoon crowd.”