CHAPTER IX
A Week on the Land
The vacations at the Grange were arranged in rather an unusualfashion, a full week's holiday being given at Whitsuntide insteadof the ordinary little break at half-term. This year Miss Gibbs, whowas nothing if not patriotic, evolved a plan for the benefit of hercountry. She saw an advertisement in the local newspaper, statingthat volunteers would soon be urgently needed to gather the strawberrycrop upon a farm about fifteen miles away, and begging ladies ofeducation to lend their services. Such a splendid opportunity of warwork appealed to her. She wrote at once for particulars, and aftersome correspondence and a visit to the scene of action, announcedher scheme to the school. She proposed that any girls who cared todevote their holidays to a useful end should join a camp ofstrawberry-pickers who were to be employed on the farm.
"It is being arranged by a Government bureau," she explained, "andmany people will be coming who, like ourselves, want to help to beartheir country's burdens--university students, journalists, socialworkers, hospital nurses, matrons of institutions, and mistresses andscholars from other schools. We shall sleep in tents, and lead anabsolutely outdoor life. It will be a healthy way of passing a week,as well as a benefit to the nation. Any girl who would like to do hershare may give me her name this afternoon, and Miss Beasley will writeto her parents for permission for her to join the camp."
Outside in the quadrangle the school talked over the proposition atits leisure.
"Will they let us eat the strawberries?" asked Fauvette anxiously.
"Certainly, you little glutton!" snapped Veronica. "You'll be allowedto stuff till you loathe the very thought of swallowing a strawberry.But you'll have to pick hard and do your share, or they'll turn youoff!"
The monitresses were fired with the idea, and all, except Linda, haddecided to "do their bit." Their enthusiasm spread downward like awave. Before the day was over, eighteen girls had given in their namesas volunteers, Raymonde, Morvyth, Katherine, and Aveline being amongthe number.
"I would like to have joined you, really!" protested Fauvette, "only Iknow I'll be so dreadfully home-sick all the rest of the term if Idon't go home, and----"
"Don't apologize, child!" interrupted Raymonde. "Nobody in theirsenses expects you to go. You'd be a huge embarrassment to the rest ofus. Blue-eyed darlings, all baby-ribbon and fluffy hair, aren't meantfor hard work. Why, you'd pick about six strawberries in an hour, andeat three-quarters of them! Go home and be petted, by all means! Wedon't want you weeping yourself to sleep at night, it disturbs thedormitory. The country'll survive without your services!"
Raymonde's harum-scarum mind was for once really filled with a wish tohelp. She meant to do her full share of work. Also she was determinedto enjoy herself. The prospect of camp-life was alluring. There was agipsy smack about it that satisfied her unconventional instincts. Itseemed almost next door to campaigning.
"If I'd only been a boy, I'd have run away to the front long ago!" sheannounced.
"Girls have their own chances in life as well as boys now," saidHermie. "Wait till you've finished with school, then you must try tofind your niche in the world. There's plenty of pioneer work for womento do yet. They haven't half exploited the colonies. Once we showwe're some good on the land, why shouldn't the Government start us inco-operative farms out in New Zealand or Australia? It ought to bedone systematically. Everything's been so haphazard before. Imagine afarm all run by girls educated at our best secondary and publicschools! It would be ideal. I'm yearning to try it."
Hermie's aspirations towards field labour and a colonial future hadbeen greatly spurred on lately by the advent of some lady labourers ona farm near the Grange. For the last fortnight the milk had beendelivered, not by the usual uncouth boy, but by a charming member ofthe feminine sex, attired in short smock, knickers and gaiters, and apicturesque rush hat. Hermie had entered into conversation with her,and learned that she was a clergyman's daughter, that she milked sixcows morning and evening, and went round with the cart delivering themilk, and that she was further concerned with the care of poultry,pigs, and calves. The glamour of her experiences made Hermie wish thatthe Grange were full of pigs instead of pupils.
"I'd rather attend to a dozen nice little black Berkshires than actmonitress to those juniors!" she sighed. "There would really be moresatisfaction in it. And as for Raymonde Armitage and her set--give meyoung 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 hayto 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 therewould be little room to stow them away in the tents. Stout boots,waterproofs, and hockey caps were taken, in case the weather mightchange, 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 amountaccomplished, and were each to contribute ten shillings towards thecanteen, the tents being provided free.
"But suppose we don't each earn ten shillings?" asked Daphne thecautious.
"Whoever doesn't will have to make up the balance from her ownpocket," 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 little party of eighteenstood with bags and bundles ready to start, Miss Gibbs bustling roundthem like a fussy hen with a large brood of chicks, giving ever somany last directions and injunctions, which seemed rather superfluousas she was going with them, and would have them under her charge thewhole time. They went by rail to Ledcombe, the nearest station toShipley, where the strawberry gardens were situated. The scene on theplatform when they arrived was certainly new and out of the common. Atrain 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 formilitary service, women with bawling babies, girls shouting popularsongs, and a swarm of turbulent children. Whole families hadapparently set forth to spend a few weeks helping at the fruitharvest, combining a holiday in the country with profit to theirpockets.
"We're not going among that crew, I hope?" said Daphne, staring ratheraghast 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 thestation were six large hay wagons, and on one of these hung a placard:"Marlowe Grange." Miss Gibbs made for it immediately, turning out somestruggling slum children who had already climbed in and takentemporary possession, and stowed the baggage inside.
"There's plenty of room for us all," she announced, "but you'll eachhave to sit on your own bundle. I'm glad I stipulated that theyshould reserve us a wagon for ourselves."
Judging by the rabble who were swarming on to the other hay carts, thegirls also considered it a cause for rejoicing. Their own vehiclestarted first, and began to jolt slowly down the country road, itsoccupants sitting as steadily as they could on their knobbly luggage,and indulging in decidedly feminine squeals when, as often happened,an extra hard jog threw them together. After four miles of this ratherexciting journey they reached the farm. Their driver stopped at agate, and, pointing across a field to some tents, indicated that thiswas their destination. He could take them no nearer, and they mustconvey their own bags and bundles over the pasture.
Hauling their own luggage with them was no light task, and they wereheartily tired of their burdens before they reached the tents. Threeof these, labelled Marlowe Grange, they appropriated; then Miss Gibbs,after a brief confabulation with the canteen matron, beckoned to herflock.
"I hear we must go at once and secure first pick of the hay sacks,"she said. "Come along, all of you!"
Over three more fields an
d two stiles they came to the farm buildings,where, spread out on hurdles, were a number of large sacks, mercifullyclean. An individual in charge, wearing a faded blue suit and a twodays' growth of stubbly beard, told them briefly to help themselves,and then take their sacks to the barn and fill them with hay.Preparing their own mattresses was a new experience, but an amusingone. It was fun stuffing the sweet-smelling hay into the rough canvasbags, and more fun still carrying the bulky bedding back over fieldsand stiles to the tents. Here, amid a chaos of unpacking, they at lastdisposed their belongings to their satisfaction.
Their special little colony consisted of nine tents and a marquee formeals. It was in charge of a matron, who directed the canteen, and wasresponsible for the comfort and order of the camp. In each tent hung alist of rules respecting hours of rising and going to bed, meals, andgeneral conduct. As there was no servant except the cook, the task ofwashing up must be shared by all in rotation, the matron havingauthority to apportion the work. No lights or talking were to beallowed after 10.30 p.m.
By the time the girls had settled all their possessions it was seveno'clock, and the rest of the camp returned from the strawberry fields.Supper was served in the marquee, everybody sitting on benches roundwooden tables without cloths. The company proved pleasant andcongenial; there were fifty in all, including some students fromLudminster University, and eight girls and two teachers from asecondary school at Tadbury. The slum party, it seemed, were lodged inthe big barns behind the farm, while some caravans of gipsy pickershad possession of a corner of a field some distance away.
Supper finished, most of the workers sat about and rested. A few,possessed of superfluous energy, took a walk to the village a mileoff, but the generality were very tired. A gramophone in the marqueeblared away at popular songs, and the more lively spirits joined inthe choruses; one or two even attempted to dance on the grass. MissGibbs had already struck up a friendship with a lady journalist, andsome of the girls began to make overtures to the Tadbury scholars, wholooked rather a jolly little set. Everybody retired early, as theywould have to be up at 5.30, and in the fields by seven.
The Marlowe Grange contingent were much exercised as to the best wayto place their mattresses. They did not know whether to sleep withtheir heads or their feet to the tent-pole, and finally decided infavour of the former. Going to bed was a funny business in so verysmall a space, with no chairs or places to put clothes down, and onlyone tin basin amongst six to wash in. It was funnier still when theyattempted to lie down on their mattresses. A bag stuffed with hay isso round that it is very difficult to keep upon it without rollingoff, and there was much pommelling and flattening before the beds wereat all tenable. At last everyone was settled, the lights were out, andthe campers, rolled in their blankets, tried to compose themselves tosleep.
Raymonde, whose billet was opposite the door of the tent, could seeout, and watch the stars shining. She lay awake a long time, with hereyes fixed on a bright planet that moved across the little horizon ofsky visible to her, till it passed out of sight, and at length she tooslept.