The earth was like iron, and nothing could be done in the fields. In January there came bitterly hard weather.
None of the animals ever mentioned Mollie again. She appeared to be enjoying herself, so the pigeons said. Her coat was newly clipped and she wore a scarlet ribbon round her forelock. A fat red-faced man in check breeches and gaiters, who looked like a publican, was stroking her nose and feeding her with sugar. She was between the shafts of a smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a public-house. For some weeks nothing was known of her whereabouts, then the pigeons reported that they had seen her on the other side of Willingdon. Hidden under the straw was a little pile of lump sugar and several bunches of ribbon of different colours. Without saying anything to the others, she went to Mollie's stall and turned over the straw with her hoof. "It isn't true!" repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the face, and the next moment she took to her heels and galloped away into the field.Ī thought struck Clover. Do you give me your word of honour that that man was not stroking your nose?"
"He didn't! I wasn't! It isn't true!" cried Mollie, beginning to prance about and paw the ground. And–I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I saw this–he was talking to you and you were allowing him to stroke your nose. Pilkington's men was standing on the other side of the hedge. This morning I saw you looking over the hedge that divides Animal Farm from Foxwood. "Mollie," she said, "I have something very serious to say to you. One day, as Mollie strolled blithely into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing at a stalk of hay, Clover took her aside. But there were also rumours of something more serious. On every kind of pretext she would run away from work and go to the drinking pool, where she would stand foolishly gazing at her own reflection in the water. She was late for work every morning and excused herself by saying that she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious pains, although her appetite was excellent. Animal Farm: A Fairy Story by George Orwell (Chapter 5)Īs winter drew on, Mollie became more and more troublesome.
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