Hurriedly I began pulling down the sleeves of the smock that I'd rolled up above my elbows. I'd got one sleeve down, when the shed-door was suddenly darkened. A man's shape shut out the glimpse of farmyard. A man's eyes were upon me with an amused and curious stare.
I recognized him.
Yes! He was that young officer who had taken it upon himself, last night at the hut, to ask me how long I thought I should stick this.
Of course, he would—he would choose this moment to come upon me again!
Angry was not the word for my feelings towards the young man!
This was unfair. But it didn't affect him. He looked at me, and at the one sleeve that I had rolled down again. He gave the honeyed smile that every Land Girl at the camp had noticed for its sweetness. And then, in the brusque voice that was such a contrast to the smile, he said—without even a "good morning":
"Any one could see that you had never set foot on a farm before."
"How d'you know I haven't? As it happens I have!" I retorted crossly, and again I caught up the spade that I'd flung into the barrow.
"Anyhow, you don't know how to handle those things," he said, moving forward. "That's not the way to hold a spade."
Without more ado he took the spade out of my hands, holding it lightly. He drove it without violence into the foul mess that heaped the floor, taking up about half the quantity that I had done.