"She is indeed a _young_ lady!" The two Warham men stood, shifting uneasily from leg to leg and rubbing their faces from time to time.

Sallie Warham was standing also, her big unhealthy face twitching fantastically.
Jeb alone was seated--chair tilted back, hands in trousers pockets, a bucolic grin of embarrassment giving an expression of pain to his common features.

A strained silence, then Zeke Warham said: "I reckon we might as well go ahead." The preacher took a small black-bound book from the inside pocket of his limp and dusty coat, cleared his throat, turned over the pages.

That rustling, the creaking of his collar on his overstarched shirt band, and the buzzing of the mud daubers round the windows were the only sounds.

The preacher found the place, cleared his throat again.
"Mr.Ferguson----" Jeb, tall, spare, sallow, rose awkwardly.
"-- You and Miss Lenox will take your places here----" and he indicated a position before him.
Susan was already in place; Jeb shuffled up to stand at her left.