That was better, though it was hard work. Too often she dug too deep, or in the wrong place and tugged hay from underneath. And sometimes, just as she got a good forkful, Bert dropped another ball right on top. She looked up, but always he had turned away and was searching with the tines of his fork for the edges of the next lot. And then a forkful came on top of her; she was suddenly smothered in a dry rustling mesh. Her fork was entangled. Her breath caught and she sneezed, and her eyes were filled with bits.
“Eh,” shouted the farmer. “There’s noo time for tricks. September 6 an’ first load!”
Bert grinned; but after that he worked more methodically and Flo found it easier. The farmer went steadily round and round stacking with greatest care. Flo was surprised when she heard Bert’s fork ring on the cart bottom. The load which had seemed so high and so big scarcely looked anything on the stack.
“Another twenty loads an’ you’ll begin to see something,” said Bert, and glancing aside she found Dick Goldbourn at the gate and wondered how long he had been there.
“She’s gettin’ her hand in at everything; she’ll be able to run the farm, if you keep her at it,” said Dick.
“She’s a good lass . . . for a young ’un,” admitted the farmer, and she knew that Dick was looking closely. But suddenly she found that it didn’t matter, and she let her eyes go to him in a friendly smile. His face was clear and looked well, but his body was big, and it seemed strange to her that she had ever thought that she might marry him, even if he had lots of money.
“I haven’t had to call on your help lately. How’s the foot?” he asked, smiling back.
“I’ve forgotten it,” and she ran past him into the lane.
“You’ll be wanted next load,” Mr. Nadin shouted, but she was glad to get away.
Flo had worked hard since she came to Prettyfield, but never as hard as she worked now. The loads came every twenty minutes or so. Mr. Nadin would shout as he went past the gate, and out she would have to run. Struggling with the great hay tangles made her sweat, and by the third load the muscles of her arms and across her shoulders ached so much that she wondered if she would be able to keep on. Only then it was dinner-time and the longer rest let her recover, though she knew that she was going to ache next day. In the afternoon Dot did most of the cabin work, but Flo had to do what she could. Mrs. Nadin seemed to have an uncanny power of knowing just how long it took to unload the hay, and if Flo didn’t hurry as soon as the cart well had been emptied, over the barn roof would come: “Flo, naa! Come on theer.”
Then there would be a tray waiting. There were hundreds of people that afternoon, so it seemed to Flo, because there were always trays waiting, and always there were pots to be carried back and washed. The dry week-end at last had enticed out walkers and picnickers who knew that winter would soon be back, though there were not many fishermen. The dull wet spell hadn’t kept them away; it was the fine weather with its cool wind that they didn’t like.
Flo as she walked to the cabin could see the loads being made up over the lane in Charlie Meadow. Clem was on top with great tousled forkfuls coming up to him from either side where she guessed Mr. Nadin and Bert were. They were working hard, too, so that Flo did all that she could willingly, even putting up with Dot’s crossness. Twelve loads were stacked before dusk, and even then there was still work indoors. Flo brought the last of the pots from the cabin and bent wearily over the tin. All day the treatment she had given to her hands had been of the worst. Taking them with softened skin straight out of water she had had to grasp the pikel. In no time damp and friction had lifted a blister on the inside of the upper joint of her right thumb and another on the top joint of the first finger of her left hand. Then her palms had gone red and sore, but before blisters had come there the thumb and finger blisters had rubbed off. Now in the hot water her hands felt raw; every time she picked up a pot she flinched.
“You’ll know what hay-time’s like in a bit,” said Mrs. Nadin.
“My word, I shall sleep,” said Flo.