Will you?"
"Yes. I--I think so."
"Don't think, do it. Let me know what train you're comin' on, and I'll
meet you at the depot."
This last remark was what upset calculations. Pearson came on Monday,
having written the day before. He did not mail the note himself, but
trusted it to Mrs. Hepton, who was going out to attend evening service.
She forgot it until the next day. So it happened that when he alighted
from the train at the suburban station the captain was not there to
meet him. He waited a while, and then, inquiring the way of the station
agent, walked up to the house by himself. As he turned in at the front
walk, Caroline came out of the door. They met, face to face.
It was a most embarrassing situation, particularly for Caroline; yet,
with feminine resourcefulness, she dissembled her embarrassment to some
extent and acknowledged his stammered, "Good afternoon, Miss Warren,"
with a cool, almost cold, "How do you do, Mr. Pearson?" which chilled
his pleasure at seeing her and made him wish devoutly that he had not
been such a fool as to come. However, there he was, and he hastily
explained his presence by telling her of the captain's invitation for
that day, how he had expected to meet him at the station, and, not
meeting him, had walked up to the house.
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