HAY-HARVEST
"Go see the wholesome country girls make hay,
Whose brown hath lovelier grace
Than many a painted face,
That I do know
Hyde Park can show."
All these questions were still there, unanswered, a fortnight later.
That date found Elizabeth and me settled as permanent Land-workers
under our friend Mr. Price, but still living in camp, whence we
walked to our work. It found Curley gone; she had taken the Rectory
job; Sybil, too, was away. She had got the post of gardening girl at
a country house outside Careg that supplied the hospital with extra
vegetables. The Elveys were still at the Lodge, for poor Mrs. Elvey
had had a rheumatic attack and could not move. Very probably,
thought I with a pang, Miss Muriel did not want to move!
All this marked the date of the beginning of one of the farm's
biggest days--the gathering in of the second hay crop.
I shall never forget this as one of the greatest scrambles that I've
ever rushed through. A "thick day" at the office was nothing to it!
It was intensely hot. The sky was cloudless, not blue, but a sultry
mauve.
Now at dinner-time Mr. Price strode in on his inordinately long legs
that he had given no rest since early morn; his blue eyes were alert
and excited.
"The glass is going down," he said. "And I heard thunder beyond the
town. I'll tell you what. I believe it'll be a race between a big
storm--and us getting in that field of hay!"
Little Mrs. Price lifted her tiny, dignified face as she sat at table.
"We'll have to do it then," said she. "Everybody will help."
"Everybody it'll have to be," declared Mr. Price, dispatching his
dinner full speed ahead. "Everybody on the farm. And I'll see if
some of the wounded boys can take a hand. And you get every one of
the workmen's wives, too. Tell them to leave their washing, leave
their baking, bring their babies to the corner of the field and all
come!"
Off went Mrs. Price to mobilize these volunteers. Out we dashed--the
Regulars.
It was indeed all hands to the pumps--that breathless afternoon.
The big field seemed to hold half Careg; farm hands, old men, boys in
hospital blue, rosy-faced women in sun-bonnets--these last were the
workmen's wives whom Mrs. Price had fetched. They worked like
niggers. And as we toiled the air grew more breathless; the pale
mauve of the sky deepened to an angry indigo, and far away we heard a
muttering of thunder. The storm was gathering slowly.
I felt myself becoming part of a regiment, part of a willing machine
that walked quickly down the rows raking the fragrant swathes.
Should we do it? Should we get in that hay in time, beat the
on-rolling field-grey clouds that were coming up, massed like German
divisions?
It was exciting. It was for the moment the most important thing in
the world that that field should be cleared before the thunder-rain
came on to spoil all.
I raked, handling the rake with ease and rhythm; I scarcely realized
who walked just in front of me, or that the two shirt-sleeved
figures--one with an absurdly slim waist!--were Captain Holiday and
Colonel Fielding.
Steadily the storm was coming up, but steadily we worked.
"We shall do it!" declared little Mrs. Price, as she passed me once,
"we shall have time for tea and all!"
Presently, as I raked in front of the road-gate, I saw our organizing
secretary fling herself off her bicycle and run up.
"Mrs. Price!" she called. "What can I do to help?"
"Cut bread and butter if you like!" laughed the farmer's wife. "It's
tea-time, and we've earned it! I'm just going to bring out a white
cloth and two big loaves, and a huge bowl of butter, and the kettle,
and tea in bags! Yes, come on!"
Twenty minutes later the last load of hay was carried. The haymakers
sat down on the grass in the corner of the field to feast their
achievement, farmfolk groups and little clusters, friends, families
together. Mr. Price seated himself in triumph on the cutter, waving
a cup at the threatening purple skies.
"We've done it!" he cried. "We have, indeed!"
I had cast myself down in the nearest shady patch, had thrown off my
hat, and dried my streaming forehead. Life was extraordinarily good
at that moment; I felt it surging in fulness through every vein. I
was heated and spent for the instant; but how happy! Work is an
anodyne; but it must be the right kind of work. This had been
splendid. I'd forgotten everything else!
I stuffed my handkerchief into my sleeve, and came to myself to find
that in my shady corner I was one of a group of four.
Elizabeth had thrown herself down close beside me. Next to her the
slim Colonel had sat down. Opposite to me, holding out bread and
butter on a large burdock leaf, was Captain Holiday.
The quartette of us devoured our tea together with an enjoyment which
was, as Captain Holiday presently said through a mouthful, barely
decent!
"Why?" demanded Colonel Fielding, with that misleading diffidence of
his. "Why shouldn't we--er--enjoy this? I--I may tell you that
this"--he drank more tea, reached for another hunk of bread and
butter, and looked sideways at Elizabeth--"this is going to represent
one of the meals of my life!"
I said, rather tritely, "That's because you worked so hard for it!"
"Oh--er--no. I don't think I like anything I've deserved," said this
young man, with (outward) mildness. Much faith I put in that as he
began on his fourth hunk, eating by tiny mouthfuls as he must have
been taught in the nursery. "Anything one's earned makes one
feel--er--one doesn't want it any more. At least, I feel like
that----"
"Not often, my dear chap," put in his friend, Captain Holiday,
brusquely. "If you were dependent upon what you earned or
deserved--by gad, you would be fairly destitute!"
Now it always amuses me the way in which men will show warm regard
for a special chum by insulting him in public. But Elizabeth, over
her white japanned mug of tea, shot a really furious glance at the
man who had dared to say this thing to her idol!
Colonel Fielding just laughed through those eyelashes, nodded
good-naturedly at his friend, and took up the conversation again as
he lounged on the grass.
Hoping for Elizabeth's sake that what he said might tell something
about him, I prepared to listen to every word of it!