Much appreciative laughter from her friends greeted this repartee, which, I believe, was then new.
"'No,' he says to me, 'but I bet you was all at sea the first time you tried to milk the cow!' I says, 'You're right!' I was, too! You see how you get on with it," to me. "Seven o'clock they milk."
"Seven!" I murmured, dismayed. In London I was never out of bed before the postman knocked.
"And where," asked Elizabeth, speaking for the first time, "where is this farm we've got to go to in the morning?"
"Mr. Holiday's? Oh, a lovely place! Great big dairy farm that they've turned into this training centre for us. Only about a mile off from here."
"A mile!" I echoed blankly. "How do we get there, please?"
"Get there? Well, how d'you think?" retorted Vic gaily. "We walk, of course."
Walk! I wondered how long it was since I'd walked a whole mile before today. Walk! A mile before the day's work began? Oh! I was not the sort of girl who ought to dream of attempting this sort of life! All these others were overwhelmingly fit and healthy. You could see they were strong as horses, gay as larks! They must have been picked girls for the job.
Well, £2 would buy me out!
The girl in the sweater and breeches, who had been ironing out her smock, now put it on, all crisp. She also pinned a pink rose to the breast of it with a regimental brooch.