"You don't mean to tell me that no young fellow comes prowling around--" "Oh, a young Dutchman or Norwegian once in a while. Nobody that counts. Fact is, we're getting like Boston--four women to one man; and when you consider that we're getting more particular each year, the outlook is--well, it's dreadful!" "It certainly is." "Marriage is a failure these days for most of us. We can't live on a farm, and can't get a living in the city, and there we are." She laid her hand on his arm. "I declare, Howard, you're the same boy you used to be. I ain't a bit afraid of you, for all your success." "And you're the same girl? No, I can't say that. It seems to me you've grown more than I have--I don't mean physically, I mean mentally," he explained, as he saw her smile in the defensive way a fleshy girl has, alert to ward off a joke. They were in the midst of talk, Howard telling one of his funny stories, when a wagon clattered up to the door, and merry voices called loudly: "Whoa, there, Sampson!" "Hullo, the house!" Rose looked at her father with a smile in her black eyes exactly like his. They went to the door. "Hullo! What's wanted?" "Grant McLane live here?" "Yup. Right here." A moment later there came a laughing, chattering squad of women to the door. Mrs. McLane and Laura stared at each other in amazement. Grant went outdoors. Rose stood at the door as if she were hostess. "Come in, Nettie. Glad to see yeh--glad to see yeh! Mrs. McIlvaine, come right in! Take a seat. Make yerself to home, do! And Mrs. Peavey! Wal, I never! This must be a surprise party. Well, I swan! How many more o' ye air they?" 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.