“We’re folks belongin’ to these townships,” he said. “What we want to know is who you are, and what right ye’ve got to order us about and say who’s goin’ in and who’s to keep out?”
Something in his words caused her cheeks to burn, but strangely enough she felt quite calm and strong in her innocence of any evil, and she answered quietly enough.
“My name is Madge Nelson, if you want to know, and I am here at this moment because I am taking care of Mr. Ennis. I feel responsible for his welfare and will continue until he is better and able to speak for himself, or––or until he is dead. I repeat that one of you may come in––but no more.”
It appeared that her manner impressed the men to some extent, if not the three women who crowded behind. One of the visitors was scratching the back of his neck.
“Look a-here, Aleck, I reckon that gal is talking sense, if Hugo’s real bad like she says. We ain’t got no call to butt in an’ make him 226 worse. I know when Mirandy was sick the Doc he told me ter take a club if I had to, to keep folks out. Let Pat Kilrea go in if he wants to an’ we’ll stay outside an’ wait.”
“Sure, that’s right enough,” said old man Prouty.
Pat advanced, but Maigan began to growl.
“Say, young ’ooman, I’ll bash that dog’s head in if you don’t keep him still,” he said, truculently. “Keep a holt of him.”
Madge pulled the dog back and quieted him.
“Be good, Maigan,” she said. “It’s all right, old fellow.”