“Girls have their own chances in life as well as boys now,” said Hermie. “Wait till you’ve finished with school, then you must try to find your niche in the world. There’s plenty of pioneer work for women to do yet. They haven’t half exploited the colonies. Once we show we’re some good on the land, why shouldn’t the Government start us in co-operative farms out in New Zealand or Australia? It ought to be done systematically. Everything’s been so haphazard before. Imagine a farm all run by girls educated at our best secondary and public schools! It would be ideal. I’m yearning to try it.”
Hermie’s aspirations towards field labour and a colonial future had been greatly spurred on lately by the advent of some lady labourers on a farm near the Grange. For the last fortnight the milk had been delivered, not by the usual uncouth boy, but by a charming member of the feminine sex, attired in short smock, knickers and gaiters, and a picturesque rush hat. Hermie had entered into conversation with her, and learned that she was a clergyman’s daughter, that she milked six cows morning and evening, and went round with the 110 cart delivering the milk, and that she was further concerned with the care of poultry, pigs, and calves. The glamour of her experiences made Hermie wish that the Grange were full of pigs instead of pupils.
“I’d rather attend to a dozen nice little black Berkshires than act monitress to those juniors!” she sighed. “There would really be more satisfaction in it. And as for Raymonde Armitage and her set—give me young calves any day!”
Miss Gibbs was extremely busy making preparations for the expedition. The farmer undertook to provide tents for the party, and bags of hay to sleep upon, but each member must bring her own pillow, blankets, mug, knife, fork, spoon and plate, as well as her personal belongings. These latter were whittled down to the smallest capacity, for there would be little room to stow them away in the tents. Stout boots, waterproofs, and hockey caps were taken, in case the weather might change, the girls wearing their usual Panama school hats on fine days. In order to prevent difficulty with the ordinary strawberry-pickers, they were to be paid for their work according to the amount accomplished, and were each to contribute ten shillings towards the canteen, the tents being provided free.
“But suppose we don’t each earn ten shillings?” asked Daphne the cautious.
“Whoever doesn’t will have to make up the balance from her own pocket,” said Miss Gibbs. “If the ordinary pickers can pay their way, I suppose we can do the same, but it will mean sticking at it hard, and no shirking. We must show what we’re made of!”
On the Friday before Whitsun week an excited 111 little party of eighteen stood with bags and bundles ready to start, Miss Gibbs bustling round them like a fussy hen with a large brood of chicks, giving ever so many last directions and injunctions, which seemed rather superfluous as she was going with them, and would have them under her charge the whole time. They went by rail to Ledcombe, the nearest station to Shipley, where the strawberry gardens were situated. The scene on the platform when they arrived was certainly new and out of the common. A train had just come in from London, bringing pickers from the slums. It was labelled “Strawberry Gatherers Only,” and its cargo was lively, not to say noisy. There were elderly men, younger ones unfit for military service, women with bawling babies, girls shouting popular songs, and a swarm of turbulent children. Whole families had apparently set forth to spend a few weeks helping at the fruit harvest, combining a holiday in the country with profit to their pockets.
“We’re not going among that crew, I hope?” said Daphne, staring rather aghast at the unkempt crowd.
“Certainly not; we shall have our own quarters,” returned Miss Gibbs, marshalling her flock to the gate of exit. Drawn up outside the station were six large hay wagons, and on one of these hung a placard: “Marlowe Grange.” Miss Gibbs made for it immediately, turning out some struggling slum children who had already climbed in and taken temporary possession, and stowed the baggage inside.
“There’s plenty of room for us all,” she announced, “but you’ll each have to sit on your own 112 bundle. I’m glad I stipulated that they should reserve us a wagon for ourselves.”