30th June, laundry

Polly kneeled by the river scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the shirt in her hands. She sighed. It didn't look likely to come out, and it would just get stained again. The soldiers paying her to do laundry never seemed too bothered. And, besides - back with the English or not, she didn't want to be alone near the river too long. Every sound had her jumpy and worried that it was the French creeping up on them.

Still, the stain was bothering her. She sighed again, and scrubbed a little harder.

The whole business of cleaning clothes during a war seemed a bit, well... odd, to Mark. After all, they would just get dirty again next fight. "I mean, maybe a scrub or... or... somethin' to keep anyone from dyin' 'cause of the smell, but." There he stopped himself. Not only had he begun to speak out load, but it was useless to argue with the army. Besides, he could see the girl that the Sergeant had said would wash his uniform, and he didn't want her to hear his ramblings.

"Um, excuse me! Miss!" Mark called out as he walked up to the girl and the river. "I've a... got something here that needs a good washin'." He pulled off his red coat and handed it to her. "That is, if you aren't busy with somthin' else. I'd be much obliged."

At the sound of the soldier calling to her, Polly let out a small scream scream and dropped the shirt. Still, the realization that he was English relaxed her. In fact, he looked somewhat familiar.

"Oh," she said, blushing. "Ye scairt me."

She took the coat he was holding out to her.

"O' course I can warsh it fer ye."

Then she remembered the dropped shirt, and hastily looked about for it. It had fallen into the mud, and looked somewhat worse than when she had started.

"Oh!" Polly said again, snatching it back up. "Tha's a right mess!"

"I'm sure sorry miss, I din't mean to scare ye."

He had been staying back from the river, but now decided to inch closer to it so he could help her find the dropped coat. Since it was his fault. Though he kept a wary eye on the water.

"Sorry 'bout the coat."

Though seeing his attempt at help was unneeded, he moved back.

"How long do you think 'twill take to wash? I don't need it now, so if 't'll take awhile I won't mind."

From here.



He had the Noisy Human's cap.

He had the cap and he was running just fast enough to stay out of the swift-footed human's reach. It served the two-legger right for teasing the dog with the scraps of cold cooked meat, didn't it? He'd snatched the cap away from the Noisy Human's hand and immediately bolted, and was now moving quickly toward the river with only one goal in mind.

With his tail wagging and the cap gripped firmly in his jaws, the dog ran carelessly between two humans near the river bank, not realising that he had just passed through a particularly messy patch of mud. Splatters of mud and damp earth spurted up in his wake but he carried on straight for the river itself without noticing.

Only at the edge of the water did he stop to look back, his tail wagging merrily. Then, spotting the Noisy Human coming back into view, he dropped the cap into the water, and offered a slightly-raspy bark in amusement.