Come in and sit down, Miss Lenox." And Keziah drew a rush-bottomed rocking chair toward the doorway.

Susan was looking at the interior.

The lower floor of the house was divided into three small rooms.

This central room was obviously the parlor--the calico-covered sofa, the center table, the two dingy chromos, and a battered cottage organ made that certain.
On the floor was a rag carpet; on the walls, torn and dirty paper, with huge weather stains marking where water had leaked from the roof down the supporting beams.

Keziah scowled at Susan's frank expression of repulsion for the surroundings.
Susan seated herself on the edge of the chair, put her bundle beside her.
"I allow you'll stay to dinner," said Keziah.
"Yes," replied Susan.
"Then I'll go put on some more to cook." "Oh, no--please don't--I couldn't eat anything--really, I couldn't." The girl spoke hysterically.
Just then Jeb came round the house and appeared in the doorway.
He grinned and winked at Susan, looked at his sister.