"I'll catch the morning train if I must sit here all the night through," he swore, so put out with himself that he could say no more.
He ascertained the exact minute the morning train left, and this train found him on time. It was Sunday in early June, and the day was beautiful. The air was rich, and the growing crops gave forth a sweet aroma. He reached the little town near where she lived, and even from the depot the splendid home in which they lived could be seen reposing vaingloriously upon a hillside. In the community her father was the wealthiest man, having made his fortune in the growing of potatoes and fruit.
She was not at the depot to meet him, and he had not expected her. It was perhaps two miles to the big residence on the hill, and to this he set out to walk. When he arrived, the house seemed to be deserted, and, as it was Sunday, he surmised that the family were at services. He went up to the front door and knocked loudly. He was conscious at once of whisperings from the inside. Presently the door was opened slowly an inch, and he saw an eye peeping out at him.
"Who are you?" a voice whispered.
He told the eye.
"Oh, yes," cried the voice and it happened to be a boy, and the cause of the whispering and quietness from the inside was due to certain pranks going on inside. "And you're that fellow from up in the Northwest," said the youngster, opening the door wide and stepping away to look at him curiously.
"Yes, I guess that's whom you refer to."
"We are certainly glad to see you around here," said the other. "Irene's been down to the train to meet you three times and she's sure fighting mad by this time."
"Oh, say, I really don't blame her a bit—to be put to so much trouble and be disappointed in the end. But, on the square, I had not anticipated being so highly honored."
"Aw, we've been anxious to know you for years. We boys had sort of planned when you was writing to Irene two or three years ago to come up there and get in on some of that land."