“I told you I thought I should not be able to come. I was very much obliged for the invitation,” said Anderson, apologetically.
“I looked for you till eleven o'clock. You ought to have come, after I took all that trouble to get an invitation for you. I don't think you were very polite.”
“I am very sorry,” murmured Anderson.
“I think you ought to be. You don't know what you missed. Ina looked awful pretty, but Charlotte looked prettier, if she wasn't the bride. Don't you think Charlotte is an awful pretty girl?”
“Very,” replied Anderson, smiling.
“You'd better. I heard her say she thought you was an awful handsome man, the handsomest man in this town. Say, I think Charlotte would like to get married, now Ina is married. I guess she feels kind of slighted. Why don't you marry Charlotte?”
“Wouldn't you like some of those molasses-peppermints, now you have finished the chocolates?” asked Anderson.
“No, I guess not, thank you. I don't feel very well this morning. Say, why don't you? She's an awful nice girl—honest. And maybe I would come and live with you. I would part of the time, anyway, and I would help in the store.”
“You had better run out and ask Sam to give you some peppermints,” repeated Anderson, desperately.
“No, thank you. I'm real obliged, but I guess I don't feel like it now. But I tell you what I had a good deal rather have?”