Back to the Land
Easter fell late, so Winona spent the lovely early part of May at her
own home. After so many weeks of town it was delightful to be once more
in the country. She worked with enthusiasm in the garden, mowed the
lawn, and with Letty and Mamie's help began to put up an arbor, over
which she hoped to persuade a crimson rambler to ramble successfully. In
the house she tried her hand at scones and cakes, entirely to the
children's satisfaction, if not altogether to her own; she enjoyed
experiments in cooking, for she had longed to join the Domestic Science
class at school, and had felt aggrieved when Miss Bishop decided that
her time-table was full enough without it. She found her mother looking
delicate and worried. Poor Mrs. Woodward's health had not improved
during the last two years; she was nervous, anxious about Percy, and
inclined to be fretful and tearful. The increased income-tax and the
added cost of living made her constantly full of financial cares; she
was not a very good manager, and the thought of the future oppressed
her.
"I don't know what's to be done with you, Winona, when you leave
school!" she remarked plaintively one evening. "I feel that you ought to
go in for something, but I'm sure I don't know what! I'd hoped you were
going to turn out clever, and win a scholarship for College, and get a
good post as a teacher afterwards, but there doesn't seem the least
chance of your doing that. It's all very well this hockey and cricket
that's made such a fuss of at schools nowadays, but it doesn't seem to
me that it's going to lead to anything. I'd rather you stuck to your
books! Yes, your future's worrying me very much. I've all these little
ones to bring up and educate, and I'd hoped you'd be able to earn your
own living before long, and lend the children a helping hand. I can't
spend anything on giving you an expensive training, Percy has cost me so
much out of capital, and it's Letty's turn next, besides which it's high
time Ernie and Godfrey were packed off to a boarding-school. Oh, dear! I
never seem free from trouble! It's no light anxiety to be the mother of
seven children! I often wonder what will become of you all!"
To Winona her mother's tearful confidences came as a shock. Up to the
present she had been so intensely interested in school affairs that she
had given scarcely a thought to her future career. Life had existed for
her in detail only to the end of the summer term, after that it had
stretched a nebulous void into which her imagination had never troubled
to penetrate. Now she took herself seriously to task, and tried to face
the prospect of the time when she would have left the Seaton High
School. There were many occupations open to girls nowadays besides
teaching; they could be doctors, secretaries, sanitary inspectors,
artists, musicians, poultry farmers. She knew however, that for any
career worth taking up a considerable training would be necessary, and a
certain amount of expense involved. What she would have liked very much
would be to study at a Physical Training College, and qualify to become
a Drill and Games Mistress, but this seemed as unattainable as taking a
medical course or going to Girton or Newnham.
"I'm too young yet for a hospital nurse," she pondered, "and not clever
enough to be an artist or a musician. Well, I suppose I can make
munitions, or go on the land! Women are wanted on farms while the war
lasts. I could earn my own living, perhaps. But oh, dear! That wouldn't
be boosting on the children! I'm afraid mother's fearfully disappointed
with me."
She seemed to be looking at things in a new light, and to see her
position as it affected others. She was young and brave; surely it was
her part to shoulder the family burdens, to shield the frail little
mother who grew less and less able to cope with difficulties, to hold
out a strong helping hand to the younger brothers and sisters, and so
justify her existence on this planet. It had not before occurred to her
how much her home people relied on her. The thought of it brought a
great lump into her throat. She must not fail them. She could not yet
see her way clearly, but somehow she must be a comfort and a support to
them, that she was quite resolved.
She went back to school in a very thoughtful frame of mind. Her last
term would be a full one in many ways. About half of the Sixth Form were
to go in for their college entrance examinations, and Miss Bishop had
decreed that Winona, as a County Scholarship holder, must certainly be
among the number. She had little hope of passing, for most of her
subjects were weak, but she meant to make an effort to try to pick up
some of her lost ground. Her old enemies, Latin and Chemistry, still
often baffled her, and her memory was only moderately retentive. She
could not honestly believe that so far as her work was concerned she was
any credit to the school. Games were another matter, however, and so
long as they did not seriously interfere with her preparation for the
matriculation, she meant to do her duty as captain. She arranged cricket
fixtures and tennis tournaments, and though she could not devote as much
of her own time as she would have liked to practice, she spurred on
others who had more leisure than herself. She certainly possessed a gift
for organization. There are some captains, splendid players themselves,
who can never train their deputies. As Napoleon's genius was supposed to
lie largely in his capacity for picking out able generals, so Winona
proved her ability by choosing helpers who were of real service to her.
With Audrey Redfern, Emily Cooper, and Bertha March to the fore, she
hoped that both cricket and tennis would prosper, and that the school
would score as successfully during the summer as it had done in the
hockey season.
On the first Saturday after the beginning of the term, Miss Beach
announced that she was going to spend the day with a friend who lived
five miles out of Seaton, and that if Winona had leisure to accompany
her she would be pleased to take her. No practices had been arranged for
that afternoon, so Winona felt free to accept the invitation. She had
been for several short runs in the car, but for no long expedition since
the memorable outing to Wickborough, so the prospect of a day in the
country was alluring.
They started at about eleven o'clock, and took a road that was new to
Winona, consequently all the more interesting. Their way led through
lovely woods, at present a sheet of blue hyacinths, the hedges were a
filmy dream of blackthorn blossom, while the swallows wheeling and
flashing in the sunshine testified to the return of summer.
Miss Carson, the lady whom they were going to visit, like most of Aunt
Harriet's friends was engaged in very interesting work. She had taken a
small holding, and with the help of a few women pupils was running it as
a fruit, flower and poultry farm. The house, an old cottage, to which
she had added a wing, was charmingly pretty. It was long and low, with a
thick thatched roof, and a porch overgrown with starry white clematis. A
budding vine covered the front and in the border below great clumps of
stately yellow lilies drooped their queenly heads. The front door led
straight into the house place, a square room with a big fire-place and
cozy ingle nooks. It was very simply furnished, but looked most artistic
with its rush-bottomed chairs, its few good pictures, and its stained
green table with the big bowl of wallflowers.
Miss Carson, a delightfully energetic lady whose age may have been
somewhere between thirty and forty, welcomed them cordially.
"I don't apologize for the plainness of my establishment," she remarked.
"It's all part of a purpose. We have no servants here, and as we have to
do our own house-work in addition to our farm-work, we want to reduce
our labor to a minimum. You see, there's hardly anything to dust in this
room: the books and the china are in those two cupboards with glass
doors, and we have no fripperies at all lying about. The only ornament
we allow ourselves is the bowl of flowers. Our bedrooms are equally
simple, and our kitchen is fitted with the latest and most up-to-date
labor-saving appliances. One of my students is preparing the dinner
there now. She's a nice girl, and Winona will perhaps like to go and
talk to her, unless she prefers to stay here with us."
Winona promptly decided in favor of the kitchen, so Miss Carson escorted
her there, and introduced her to Miss Heald, a jolly-looking girl of
about twenty, who, enveloped in a blue overall pinafore, was putting
plates to heat, and inspecting the contents of certain boilerettes and
casseroles. Like the sitting-room the kitchen contained no unnecessary
articles. It was spotlessly clean, and looked very business-like.
"We go on kitchen duty for a week at a time," explained Miss Heald to
Winona. "It's a part of the course, you know. We have dairy, gardening
and poultry as well. Which do I like best? It's hard to say. Poultry, I
think, because the chickens are such darlings. I'll show you all round
the place this afternoon, when I've finished washing up. I'm going to
lay the table now. You can help if you like."
Precisely at one o'clock the seven other students came in from their
work. Each was dressed in her farm uniform, short serge skirt, woolen
jersey, blue overall and thick boots. To judge from their looks, their
occupation was both healthy and congenial, in physique they were Hebes,
and their spirits seemed at bubbling point. Apparently they all adored
Miss Carson. The latter made a few inquiries as to the morning's
progress, and the capable answers testified to the knowledge of the
learners. The dinner did credit to Miss Heald's skill; it was well
cooked and daintily served. Winona was full of admiration; her culinary
experience was limited so far to cakes and scones; she felt that she
would have been very proud if she had compounded that stew, and baked
those custards. When the meal was finished the students tramped forth
again to their outdoor labor, while Miss Heald cleared away. Winona
begged to be allowed to help her, and was initiated into the mysteries
of the very latest and most sanitary method of washing up, with the aid
of mop, dish-rack, and some patent appliances. It was so interesting
that she quite enjoyed it. She swept the kitchen, filled kettles at the
pump, and did several other odd jobs; then, everything being left in an
absolutely immaculate condition, Miss Heald declared that she was ready,
and offered to take her companion for a tour of inspection round the
farm.
The little holding had been well planned, and was skillfully arranged.
In front was the garden, a large piece of ground stretching down to the
hedge that bordered the road. Miss Carson's original idea had been the
culture of flowers, partly for the sale of their blossoms, and partly
for the preservation of their seeds, but the national need of producing
food crops during the war had induced her to plant almost the whole of
it with fruit and vegetables. At present it somewhat resembled a village
allotment. Patches of peas and broad beans were coming up well. Groups
of gooseberry bushes were thriving. Strawberry beds were being carefully
weeded, and two of the students were erecting posts round them, over
which nets would be hung later on to protect the fruit from the birds.
"Birds are our greatest pest here," explained Miss Heald. "One may like
them from a natural history point of view, but you get to hate the
little wretches when you see them devouring everything wholesale.
They've no conscience. Those small coletits can creep through quite fine
meshes, and simply strip the peas, and the blackbirds would guzzle all
day if they had the chance. I want to borrow an air gun and pot at them,
but Miss Carson won't let me. She's afraid I might shoot some of the
other students."
A row of cucumber frames and some greenhouses stood at the bottom of the
garden. The latter were mostly devoted to young tomato plants, though
one was specially reserved for vegetable marrows. The students had to
learn how to manage and regulate the heating apparatus of the houses,
as well as to understand the culture of the plants.
"I left a window open once," confessed Miss Heald. "I remembered it when
I had been about an hour in bed, and I jumped up and dressed in a hurry,
and went out with a lantern to shut it. Fortunately there was no frost
that night, or all the seedlings might have been killed. It was a most
dreadful thing to forget! I thought Miss Carson would have jumped on me,
but she was ever so nice about it."
Despite the predominance of foodstuffs there were a few flowers in the
garden, clumps of forget-me-not and narcissus, purple iris, golden
saxifrages and scarlet anemones. There were fragrant bushes of lavender
and rosemary, and beds of sweet herbs, thyme, and basil and fennel and
salsafy, for Miss Carson believed in some of the old-fashioned remedies,
and made salves and ointments and hair washes from the products of her
garden. The orchard, full of pink-blossomed apple trees, was a
refreshing sight. They opened a little gate, and walked under a wealth
of drooping flowers to the poultry yard that lay at the further side.
Everything here was on the most up-to-date system. Pens of beautiful
white Leghorns, Black Minorcas and Buff Orpingtons were kept in wired
inclosures, each with its own henhouse and scratching-shed full of
straw. Miss Heald took Winona inside to inspect the patent
nesting-boxes, and the grit-cutting machine. She also showed her the
incubators.
"They're empty now, but you should have seen them in the early spring,
when they were full of eggs," she explained. "It was a tremendous
anxiety to keep the lamps properly regulated. Miss Nelson and I sat up
all night once when some prize ducklings were hatching. It was cold
weather, and they weren't very strong, so they needed a little help.
It's the most frightfully delicate work to help a chick out of its
shell! It makes a little chip with its beak, and then sometimes it can't
get any further, and you have gently to crack the hole bigger. Unless
you're very careful you may kill it, but on the other hand, if it can't
burst its shell when it's ready to hatch, it may suffocate, so it's a
choice of evils. We put them in the drying pen first, and then in the
'foster mother.' They're like babies, and have to be fed every two
hours. It's a tremendous business when you have hundreds of them, at
different stages and on different diets. We seemed to be preparing food
all day long. It's ever so fascinating, though!"
"I love them when they're like fluffy canaries," said Winona.
"Yes, so do I. I had a special sitting of little ducklings under my
charge, and they got very tame. I put them into a basket one day, and
carried them into the garden to pick up worms. I put them down on a bed,
and while my back was turned for a few minutes they cleared a whole row
of young cabbages that Miss Morrison had just planted. I got into
fearful trouble, and had to pack up my _protégés_ and take them back to
their coop in disgrace. I'd never dreamed they would devour green stuff!
We have to learn to keep strict accounts of the poultry; we put down
the number of eggs daily, and the weekly food bill, and the chickens
sold, and make a kind of register, with profit and loss. Miss Carson
runs everything on a most business-like basis."
Miss Heald showed Winona the store-room, where meal and grain were kept,
the big pans in which food was mixed, the boxes for packing eggs, and
the little medicine cupboard containing remedies for sick fowls. All was
beautifully orderly and well arranged, and a card of rules for the help
of the students hung on the walls.
From the poultry department they passed to the Dairy Section. The four
sleek cows were out in the field, but in a loose box there were some
delightful calves that ran to greet Miss Heald, pressing eager damp
noses into her hand, and exhibiting much apparent disappointment that
she did not offer them a pailful of milk and oatmeal. Winona inspected
the cool, scrupulously clean dairy, with its patent churn, and slate
slabs for making up the butter. She saw the bowls where the cream was
kept, and the wooden print with which the pats were marked.
"Butter-making is the side of the business I don't care for," admitted
Miss Heald. "I like the gardening fairly well, and I just love the
poultry, but I don't take to dairy work. Of course it's a part of my
training, so I'm obliged to do it, but when my time here is over, I mean
to make hens my specialty, and go in for poultry farming. An open-air
life suits me. It's a thousand times nicer than being a nurse at a
hospital, or a secretary at an office. You're in the fresh air all day,
and the chicks are so interesting."
A pen of young turkey poults, a flock of goslings, and a sty full of
infant pigs were next on exhibition. Miss Heald showed off the latter
with pride.
"They're rather darlings, and I own to a weakness for them," she
admitted. "We put them in a bath and scrub them, and they're really so
intelligent. Wasn't it the poet Herrick who had a pet pig? This little
chap's as sharp as a needle. I believe I could teach him tricks
directly, if I tried! Miss Carson says I mustn't let myself grow too
fond of all the creatures, because their ultimate end is bacon or the
boilerette, and it doesn't do to be sentimental over farming; but I
can't help it! I just love some of the chickens; they come flying up on
to my shoulder like pigeons."
A rough-coated pony formed part of the establishment. Twice a week he
was harnessed to the trap, and Miss Carson and one of the students drove
to Seaton to dispose of the farm produce. Miss Carson had undertaken to
supply several hotels and restaurants with eggs, fowls and vegetables,
and so far had found the demand for her goods exceeded the supply. Labor
was at present her greatest difficulty. Her students accomplished the
light work, but could not do heavy digging. She managed to secure the
occasional services of a farm hand, but with most able-bodied men at the
war the problem of trenching or of making an asparagus bed was almost
impossible to solve.
At the end of the orchard, against a south hedge of thick holly, stood
the hives. Bee-keeping was one of the most successful ventures of the
holding. Last autumn had shown a splendid yield of honey, and this year,
judging by the activity of the bees, an equal harvest might be expected.
There was continuous humming among the apple blossoms, and every minute
pollen-laden workers were hurrying home with their spoils. Miss Heald
lifted the lid of one of the hives, to show Winona the comb within. She
observed caution, however.
"They don't know me very well," she explained. "They have their likes
and dislikes. Miss Hunter can let them crawl all over her hands and
arms, and they never sting her. She must have a natural attraction for
them. They recognize a stranger directly. No, I'm not particularly fond
of them. I prefer pigs and chickens."
Miss Carson and Aunt Harriet had also been going the round of the farm,
and came up to inspect the hives. Miss Beach was greatly interested in
her friend's work, and full of congratulations.
"Such women as you are the backbone of the country!" she declared. "The
next best thing to fighting is to provide food for the nation. England
is capable of producing twice her annual yield if there is proper
organization. I'm a great advocate of small holdings, and I think women
can't show their patriotism better than by going 'back to the land.' You
and your students are indeed 'doing your bit'! You make me want to come
and help you!"
It was such a delicious warm afternoon that chairs were carried outside,
and they had tea in the garden under a gorgeous pink-blossomed almond
tree, with the perfume of wallflowers and sweet scented stocks wafted
from the rockery above. Two cats and a dog joined the party, also an
impudent bantam cock, who, being considered the mascot of the
establishment, was much petted, and allowed certain privileges. He would
sit on Miss Carson's wrist like a little tame hawk, and she sometimes
brought him into the garden at tea-time to give him tit-bits.
At 4.30 all the fowls and chickens were fed, a tremendous business, at
which Winona looked on with enthusiasm. She admired the systematic way
in which the food was measured and distributed so that each individual
member of the flock received its due share, and was not robbed by a
greedier and stronger neighbor. She was very reluctant to leave when
Miss Beach at last brought round the car.
"How I'd love to go and learn farming when I leave school!" she ventured
to remark as they drove home.
"It needs brains!" returned Aunt Harriet, rather snappily. "You mustn't
imagine it's all tea in the garden and playing with fluffy chickens. To
run such a holding intelligently requires a clever capable head. Your
examination's quite enough for you to think about at present. If you're
to have any chance at all of passing, it will take your whole energies,
I assure you!"
Winona, duly snubbed, held her peace.