"Well, I wanted to come to-night because I'm going away next week, and I wanted to see how he'd act at a surprise-party again," Rose explained.
"Married, I s'pose," said Mrs. McIlvaine, abruptly.
"No, not yet."
"Good land! Why, y' mus' be thirty-five, How. Must 'a' dis'p'inted y'r mam not to have a young 'un to call 'er granny."
The men came clumping in, talking about haying and horses. Some of the older ones Howard knew and greeted, but the younger ones were mainly too much changed. They were all very ill at ease. Some of them were in compromise dress—something lying between working "rig" and Sunday dress. Most of them had on clean shirts and paper collars, and wore their Sunday coats (thick woollen garments) over rough trousers. Most of them crossed their legs at once, and all of them sought the wall and leaned back perilously upon the hind legs of their chairs, eyeing Howard slowly.
For the first few minutes the presents were the subjects of conversation. The women especially spent a good deal of talk upon them.
Howard found himself forced to taking the initiative, so he inquired about the crops and about the farms.
"I see you don't plough the hills as we used to. And reap! What a job it used to be. It makes the hills more beautiful to have them covered with smooth grass and cattle."
There was only dead silence to this touching upon the idea of beauty.
"I s'pose it pays reasonably?"