“Well, I’ve decided—I’ve decided not to.”
“But, Jim! Why, I can’t have it so! I’m dreadful disappointed. I’ve counted on your goin’. So has Abbie. She’s read your book, and she says she’s crazy to see the feller that wrote it. She’s told the minister and a whole lot more, and they’re all comin’ in to look at you. ’Tain’t often we have a celebrated character in our town. You’ve got to go.”
“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the invitation and your kindness, but,” with decision, “I can’t accept.”
“Can’t you come later? Say Thanksgivin’ mornin’? Or even the day after?”
“No.”
“But why not? What’s the matter with you all of a sudden? Come here! let me look at you.”
He took the young man by the arm and led him, almost by main strength, close to the lighted window of the station. It was late, and the afternoon was gloomy. Here, by the lamplight streaming through the window, he could see his face more clearly. He looked at it.
“Humph!” he grunted, after a moment’s scrutiny. “You’ve made up your mind; I can see that. Have you told Caroline? Does she know?”
“Yes. You’ll have to excuse me, Captain Warren; my train is coming.”
“What did she say?”