They found the door of the kitchen open, but no one there.It was a large, low kitchen, with a very red brick floor, and it led into the dairy, where they could see the flat pans of milk.The fire was burning so brightly that they knew the farmer's wife could not be far away.Over the mantelpiece was a gun.Two or three highly polished and highly coloured grocer's calendars--pictures of beautiful women--were on the walls.Sides of bacon hung from the ceiling.The whole place smelled of wood smoke and plenty.
The children noticed all these things as they stood in the doorway, every now and then knocking.
At last they heard steps, and a very wide and smiling woman entered the kitchen from another door.
"Well," she asked, "what can I do for you? "Gregory, proud to be really beginning his duties, said: "Please, may we camp tonight in one of your fields? We're living in a caravan.""You've come to the wrong person," said Mrs.Gosden."That's my husband's affair, and he's rather particular.He's gone to Chipping Norton; but," she added, as Gregory began to look miserable, "he'll be back any minute now.
You sit down and have a cup of tea with me and wait for him."So they sat down, and Mrs.Gosden made the tea, which she took from a highly coloured tin, covered also with beautiful women, and they had with it bread and butter and lettuce, and talked.
"And how do you like gipsying?" Mrs.Gosden asked.
"I think it's going to be splendid," Mary said; "but we've only just begun.""Then you haven't slept out before?"
"No," said Mary.
"My word!" said Mrs.Gosden; "what sore throats you'll have in the morning!
Roughing it's all very well by day, but give me a comfortable bed to lay in of a night.That's me!"At this moment the sound of wheels was heard, and Mrs.Gosden jumped up and added some hot water to the tea and cut some more bread-and-butter."That's father," she said, and Mr.Gosden soon after came in.
He was a big man with whiskers under his chin all the way round, but none on the rest of his face.
"Hello!" he said; "visitors!"
"Yes," said Mrs.Gosden, "a young lady and gentleman who are living in a caravan, and want to camp in the hay takers.At least, I think it's the hay takers from what they say of it.""Ho, do they?" said Mr.Gosden."A nice state of things," he added with a twinkle, "when every one who comes to ask leave to spoil one of my fields gets a nice tea given them!" and he laughed.
"We shouldn't spoil it," said Gregory.
"Well," said Mr.Gosden, "perhaps you'll tell me how you make a fire.Isn't it on the ground? And what do you do with your rubbish? Clean it up and take it along with you? Not too likely.I've had caravaners here before.""We will," said Mary, "I promise"--seeing as she spoke the necessity of a new official being appointed at once: the Remover of Camp Litter.
"I said the other day," continued the farmer, "that never again would I let a caravan into my fields, didn't I, Bet? And how can I go back on that?""You did say it," said Mrs.Gosden, "true enough, but you're halways breaking your word.You said you'd bring me a new alarm clock the next time you went to Oxford, and I've never got it yet, and that's months ago.""Never mind," said Mr.Gosden; "it means longer in bed for you.Well," he added to Mary, "I'll come down with you and look at the turnout and see.
But I must finish my tea first."
Never, thought Mary, could anyone have eaten so much tea or taken so long over it, and she was in despair about the others waiting in the road, hungry and impatient; but there was nothing for it but to be quiet, and at last Mr.Gosden was ready.
The others, it was true, had become very tired of waiting, but they had spent some of the time in bringing water from the nearest cottage.No one who gets really cross from waiting should ever go away in a caravan.Mr.
Gosden had a good look at all of them and at Kink before he said anything.
He then gave them leave to camp very near the hedge, and he asked them to promise to be gone by ten the next morning, as he had some cattle coming in, and to clear up thoroughly, and then off he went.He stepped back to tell them to come up to the farm in the morning for milk and butter and to report on their night, and started off once more.
Gregory, who had clearly been puzzling over something, ran after him.
"Well?" said Mr.Gosden.
"Where do they take the hay?" Gregory said.
"Who? " Mr.Gosden asked.
"The hay takers," said Gregory.
"I don't understand," said Mr Gosden.
"What hay takers? It's not a hay meadow.We graze it.""Mrs.Gosden," said Gregory, "called the field the hay takers."Mr.Gosden laughed loudly." That's my missis's pronounciation," he said.
"She's much too fond of haitches: she will put them in the wrong place.Ioften correct her, but it's no use.It's nothing to do with hay.It's the size of the field--the size, don't you see? The eight acres: that's what she meant to say, bless her old heart!"
