Doris worked hard to play her part as hostess, but it was certainly no light task.

Two of the last-comers were brothers of the name of Chubb, and from neither of these could she extract more than one word at a time.

The third, Farmer Locke, was of the aggressive, bulldog type, and he very speedily asserted himself.

He seemed, indeed, somewhat inclined to browbeat her, loudly arguing her slightest remark after a fashion which she found decidedly exasperating, but presently discovered to be his invariable habit with everyone.

He flatly contradicted even Jeff, but she was pleased to hear Jeff bluntly hold his own, and secretly admired him for the achievement.
On the whole, the meal was not quite so much of an ordeal as she had anticipated, and she was just beginning to congratulate herself upon this fact when she discovered that young Griggs was ogling her with most unmistakable familiarity whenever she glanced his way.