But one afternoon at the end of the week following that of the funeral, Perez set out for a call upon his intended which he meant should be a decisive one. He had screwed his courage up to the top notch, and as he told Captain Eri afterwards, he meant to “hail her and git his bearin's, if he foundered the next minute.”
He found the lady alone, for old Mrs. Mayo had gone with her son, whose name was Abner, to visit a cousin in Harniss, and would not be back until late in the evening. Miss Patience was very glad to have company, and it required no great amount of urging to persuade the infatuated swain to stay to tea. When the meal was over—they washed the dishes together, and the Captain was so nervous that it is a wonder there was a whole plate left—the pair were seated in the parlor. Then said Captain Perez, turning red and hesitating, “Pashy, do you know what a feller told me 'bout you?”
Now, this remark was purely a pleasant fiction, for the Captain was about to undertake a compliment, and was rather afraid to shoulder the entire responsibility.
“No; I'm sure I don't, Perez,” replied Miss Davis, smiling sweetly.
“Well, a feller told me you was the best housekeeper in Orham. He said that the man that got you would be lucky.”
This was encouraging. Miss Patience colored and simpered a little.
“Land sake!” she exclaimed. “Whoever told you such rubbish as that? Besides,” with downcast eyes, “I guess no man would ever want me.”
“Oh, I don't know.” The Captain moved uneasily in his chair, as if he contemplated hitching it nearer to that occupied by his companion. “I guess there's plenty would be mighty glad to git you. Anyhow, there's—there's one that—that—I cal'late the fog's thick as ever, don't you?”
But Miss Patience didn't mean to give up in this way.
“What was it you was goin' to say?” she asked, by way of giving the bashful one another chance.