“Give her a little time,” Jim pleaded. “She ain't rode for a year.”
“Time!” shouted Barker. “How much does she want? She's been back a month and instead o' bracin' up, she's a-gettin' worse. There's only one thing for me to do.”
“What's that?” asked Jim, uneasily.
“I'm goin' ter call her, and call her hard.”
“Look here, Barker,” and Jim squared his shoulders as he looked steadily at the other man; “you're boss here, and I takes orders from you, but if I catches you abusin' Poll, your bein' boss won't make no difference.”
“You can't bluff me,” shouted Barker.
“I ain't bluffin'; I'm only TELLIN' yer,” said Jim, very quietly.
“Well, you TELL her to get onto her job. If she don't she quits, that's all.” He hurried into the ring.
Jim took one step to follow him, then stopped and gazed at the ground with thoughtful eyes. He, too, had seen the change in Polly. He had tried to rouse her; it was no use. She had looked at him blankly. “If she would only complain,” he said to himself. “If she would only get mad, anything, anything to wake her.” But she did not complain. She went through her daily routine very humbly and quietly. She sometimes wondered how Jim could talk so much about her work, but before she could answer the question, her mind drifted back to other days, to a garden and flowers, and Jim stole away unmissed, and left her with folded hands and wide, staring eyes, gazing into the distance.
The memory of these times made Jim helpless to-night. He had gone on hoping from day to day that Barker might not notice the “let-down” in her work, and now the blow had fallen. How could he tell her?