The spirit that
enveloped her belonged rather to that of some royal dame of heroic
times, than to that of a working woman of to-day. The room
somehow became her castle, the rough stablemen her knights.
On his return to his work she walked back with him part of the
way. Babcock, still bewildered, and still consumed with curiosity
to learn something of her past, led the talk to her life along the
docks, expressing his great surprise at discovering her so capable
and willing to do a man's work, asking who had taught her, and
whether her husband in his time had been equally efficient and
strong.
Instantly she grew reticent. She did not even answer his
question. He waited a moment, and, realizing his mistake, turned
the conversation in another direction.
"And how about those rough fellows around the wharves--those who
don't know you--are they never coarse and brutal to you?"
"Not when I look 'em in the face," she answered slowly and
deliberately. "No man ever opens his head, nor dar'sn't. When
they see me a-comin' they stops talkin', if it's what they
wouldn't want their daughters to hear; an' there ain't no dirty
back talk, neither. An' I make me own men civil, too, with a
dacint tongue in their heads. I had a young strip of a lad once
who would be a-swearin' round the stables.
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