Returning, she saw a man arrayed in overalls, boots, a blue woolen shirt, and broad felt hat, standing in the doorway of the stable that, she felt, belonged to the Eating-House. Sight of the stable brought to her thoughts of her horse—Billy—and she decided to determine if the man who had taken charge of him had put him into the stable.
She paused before the door, directly in front of the man, who did not move aside to permit her to enter.
She thought at first that he was not aware of her desire—until she observed an amused light in his eyes; and then she knew that he was purposely barring her way.
“This is the Eating-House stable, I suppose?” she inquired quietly.
“You’re supposin’ is a heap correct, ma’am,” grinned the man.
“Well,” she said, “if you will kindly step aside I shall see if my horse is all right.”
“Your horse is all right, ma’am,” returned the man. “I’ve just fed him.”
Irritated by his attitude, she spoke sharply:
“Step aside, please; I am going into the stable!”
The man grinned widely. “It’s ag’in’ orders, ma’am; you’ll have to stay out.”