Joan did not hesitate. It was not her way to hesitate about anything when her mind was made up. And just now she was determined to find out the real story of what had happened to her. She was interested. This man had carried her. He had brought her trunks up. And--yes, she liked the look of him.
But she felt it necessary to approach the matter with becoming dignity. She was not given much to standing on her dignity, but she felt that in her association with the men of these parts she must harden herself to it. All friendships with men were banned. This she was quite decided upon. And she sighed as she passed round the angle of the barn.
Her sigh died at its birth, however, and she was brought to a short and terrified halt. Two prongs of a hayfork gleamed viciously within three inches of her horrified eyes, and, behind them, with eyes no less horrified, stood the dark-haired stranger.
The gleaming prongs of the fork were sharply withdrawn, and a pleasant voice greeted the girl.
"Guess that was a near thing," it said half-warningly.
Joan had started back, but at the sound of the voice she quickly recovered herself.
"It was," she agreed. Then as she looked into the smiling eyes of the stranger she began to laugh.
"Another inch an' more an' you'd sure have been all mussed up on that pile of barn litter," he went on, joining in her laugh.
"I s'pose I should," Joan nodded, her mirth promptly sobering to a broad smile.
She had almost forgotten her purpose so taken up was she in observing this "scallawag," as Mrs. Ransford had called him. Nor did it take her impressionable nature more than a second to decide that her worthy housekeeper was something in the nature of a thoroughly stupid woman. She liked the look of him. She liked his easy manner. More than all she liked the confident look of his dark eyes and his sunburnt face, so full of strength.
"Hayforks are cussed things anyway," the man said, flinging the implement aside as though it had offended him.
Joan watched him. She was wondering how best to approach the questions in her mind. Somehow they did not come as easily as she had anticipated. It was one thing to make up her mind beforehand, and another to put her decision into execution. He was certainly not the rough, uncouth man she had expected to find. True, his language was the language of the prairie, and his clothes, yes, they surely belonged to his surroundings, but there was none of the uncleanness about them she had anticipated.