a bewildering number of people, most of whom she could not place at all.
There seemed to be no reason for meeting them; certainly she would not have
met them in the East. Nevertheless, they all shook her by the hand, and
bowed to her whenever subsequently they passed her on the street. Keith
told her this was all usual and proper in this new and mixed social order;
and she was perfectly willing to make the effort. She was really charming
to everybody. The consciousness that she was successfully adapting herself
to their primitive provincial scope, and her very gracious condescension to
all types, filled her with respect for her democracy and breadth of mind.

The afternoon they spent at the house receiving boxes and packages. Keith
worked busily, happily, feverishly, in his shirt sleeves. He attacked the
job on the principle of a whirlwind campaign, hammering, ripping, throwing
papers down, deciding instantly where this or that chair or table was to
stand, tearing on to the next, enjoying himself dustily and hugely.

Nan was more leisurely. She found time to gossip with the drayman who
brought up the goods, actually came to a liking and a warm friendly feeling
for him as a person. This was a new experience for Nan, and she explored it
curiously.

John McGlynn was a teamster, but likewise a thoroughly independent and
capable citizen. He was of the lank, hewn, lean-faced, hawk-nosed type,
deliberate in movement and speech, with a twinkling, contemplative,
appraising eye, and an unhurried drawl. He told Nan he had come out in '49.

"No, ma'am," he disclaimed vigorously, "I didn't go to the mines. I am a
teamster, and I always did teaming." He did not add, as he might have done,
that in those days of the individual he had been an important influence.