As the nights draw in, the old hands at the dairy like to tell tales. The best one is about the cold room, and the milk maid who is said to walk there on stormy nights, wearing a white apron and carrying a lamp.
She is not frightening. She only checks the pans, one by one, and skims the cream if it is ready. Then she vanishes. Wren has seen her three times and says she is very efficient.
We cannot confirm any of this. But we can confirm that in the morning the cream is sometimes already skimmed, the pans washed, and the floor clean. We leave a small saucer of milk out for her, just in case. It is always empty by dawn.
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