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Jinniver had done her best to get clean after the unforeseen tumble in the dirt, but there was only so much a bucket of cold water could do to wash off so much muck. Her fingernails were still blackened where she had made a vain attempt to claw at the ground when she was brought down, and she now had a few nasty splinters in her hands. In between bites of her scone, which she held using a clean napkin, she picked at the tiny shards of wood.
She did not sit still for long; soon she was up and whirling around, beating the skirts of her tunic furiously in an attempt to remove more of the soil. Her face grew quite red, as she got more frustrated with her futile attempts to remove the mess. Her other tunic was not fit to wear, as it was badly stained and creased, so she could not change. The only clean garment she had with her was her best dress which was packed in the travelling bag in her bedchamber. She realised with a sigh that she would have to change into it later while she had her tunics laundered. It was too expensive a dress to wear for gardening, so she would have to put on a brave face about the state of her clothes until her work was done for the day.
As she was agonising with herself, she had stood lost in thought as the hobbit lads had burst out in another scene of commotion. Hearing about the youthful romantic feelings of young Ferdy, she smiled. But a sense of sadness was behind her smile. It was a long time since she had felt that rush of pride and embarrassment at being found out for liking someone. She looked across to where the young hobbit lass, Ginger, was tending to the flowers at the inn, and almost felt a tear rise in her eye.
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