The house was a plain, square frame dwelling,
with front and rear verandas, protected by the arching branches of
a big sycamore- tree, and surrounded by a small garden filled with
flaming dahlias and chrysanthemums. Everything about the place
was scrupulously neat and clean.
The stables--there were two--stood on the lower end of the lot.
They looked new, or were newly painted in a dark red, and appeared
to have accommodations for a number of horses. The stable-yard
lay below the house. In its open square were a pump and a
horse-trough, at which two horses were drinking. One, the Big
Gray, had his collar off, showing where the sweat had discolored
the skin, the traces crossed loosely over his back. He was
drinking eagerly, and had evidently just come in from work.
About, under the sheds, were dirt-carts tilted forward on their
shafts, and dust-begrimed harnesses hanging on wooden pegs.
A strapping young fellow in a red shirt came out of the stable
door leading two other horses to the trough. Babcock looked about
him in surprise at the extent of the establishment. He had
supposed that his stevedore had a small outfit and needed all the
work she could get. If, as McGaw had said, only boys did Grogan's
work, they at least did it well.
Crane mounted the porch first and knocked.
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