Jim moved toward the stool beside the table.
“Sit down.”
“Me?”
“Sure. Let's be sociable. It's Christmas Eve, isn't it?”
“Yeah!” Nance answered cheerfully, taking her seat and glancing timidly at her guest.
Jim seized the jug, poured out two drinks of corn whiskey, handed her one and raised his:
“Well, here's lookin' at you, old girl.”
He paused, lowered his cup and smiled.
“But say, give me a toast.” He nodded toward the shed-room. “I'm on my honeymoon, you know.”
His hostess laughed timidly and glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. She wished to be sociable and make up as best she could for her rudeness on their arrival.