But——
Already we were beginning to enjoy it all! Neither of us admitted this, of course. For my part, I should have felt it was too ridiculously soon to enjoy anything in life again—and such a life!
That rag-time rabble of girls! That lack of civilized comforts in camp! Vic's orders for the day! This routine of jobs only fit for a farm-lad—yet what thrills of pride ran through me at the thought that I, Joan Matthews, was doing them at all, and that soon I should begin to do them quite well!
I had cleaned out a hopelessly filthy-looking cow-house—thrill of pride number one—all by myself—nearly. No rush of work accomplished at the office had ever given me such satisfaction! Then I'd taken three milking lessons, at the first of which Mrs. Price said I'd made a good start—thrill number two. Now Mr. Price had set me and my chum on to a new job—thrill number three—in which he was instructing us himself.
This was to harness his old white mare, Blossom, to the cart, to take it down to the field of roots across the road from the farm, and to fork up roots, which we were presently to pulp into food for the bullocks, which were still being partly stable-fed each day.
Into that big field, bordered by elms, through which we caught glimpses of a faintly purple range of mountains, Elizabeth and I tramped with the farmer; she at Blossom's mild head, I carrying a fork and listening to that gentle giant, Mr. Price.
"When we have got a cart-load I will take you to the grinding-machine and show you how you mash these things up," he told me. "Very handy, the new power-engine! Three belts for shafting I've got from the engine to the machine. Put it in this winter, I did. All done by horse-power before that. Wonderful! What they're getting to do now in the farms! Wouldn't have believed it in my father's time—no, nor that I should have little young ladies like that one to lead the horses for me," he smiled. "Stop her here, missy. Whoa, back! It's up here we'll start."
But before Elizabeth had left the horse's head, before I'd dug my fork more than once into the rich-smelling earth, a "Good morning" sounded behind us, in a deep but gentle voice.
We turned, I saying resignedly to myself in that flash:
"I suppose it's Captain Holiday again—sounds as meek as Moses for once, but he's evidently come to see how the Land Girls get on with their root-digging, and to tell them all about it."