All was confusion, merriment, hand-shakings as Rose introduced them in her roguish way.
"Folks, this is Mr. Howard McLane of New York. He's an actor, but it hain't spoiled him a bit as I can see. How., this is Nettie McIlvaine—Wilson that was."
Howard shook hands with Nettie, a tall, plain girl with prominent teeth.
"This is Ma McIlvaine."
"She looks just the same," said Howard, shaking her hand and feeling how hard and work-worn it was.
And so amid bustle, chatter, and invitations "to lay off y'r things an' stay awhile," the women got disposed about the room at last. Those that had rocking-chairs rocked vigorously to and fro to hide their embarrassment. They all talked in loud voices.
Howard felt nervous under this furtive scrutiny. He wished that his clothes didn't look so confoundedly dressy. Why didn't he have sense enough to go and buy a fifteen-dollar suit of diagonals for everyday wear.
Rose was the life of the party. Her tongue rattled on in the most delightful way.
"It's all Rose and Bill's doin's," Mrs. McIlvaine explained. "They told us to come over and pick up anybody we see on the road. So we did."
Howard winced a little at her familiarity of tone. He couldn't help it for the life of him.