“It's the place, all right. Set down, Kiddo—take off your hat and things. Make yourself at home.”
Nance flew at him in a sudden frenzy at his assumption of insolent ownership of her cabin.
“There's no place for ye to sleep!” she fairly shrieked in his face.
Again Jim's arms were over her head, waving her down.
“All right, sweetheart! We're from New York. We don't sleep. We've come all the way down here to the mountains of North Carolina just to see you. And we're goin' to sit up all night and look at ye——”
He sat down deliberately, and Nance fumbled her hands with a nervous movement.
Mary's heart went out in sympathy to the forlorn old creature in her embarrassment. Her dress was dirty and ragged, an ill-fitting gingham, the elbows out and her bare, bony arms showing through. The waist was too short and always slipping from the belt of wrinkled cloth beneath which she kept trying to stuff it.
Mary caught her restless eye at last and held it in a friendly look.
“Please let us stay!” she pleaded. “We can sleep on the floor—anywhere.”
“You bet!” Jim joined in. “Married two weeks—and I don't care whether it rains or whether it pours or how long I have to stand outdoors—if I can be with you, Kid.”