The young man’s face was pale, his manner constrained, and he was manifestly laboring under more emotion than he usually showed. Wondering what could be the object of his call, Major Welch met him gravely. Steve held out his hand and the Major took it formally. At any rate the mission was peaceful.
“Major Welch, I have come to see you—” he began hesitatingly, his hat in his hand, and his face flushed.
“Won’t you walk up on the veranda and sit down?” The Major did not mean to be outdone in civility.
“Not until I have stated the object of my visit. Then, if you choose to invite me, I shall be very glad to accept.” He had recovered his composure.
The Major was more mystified.
“I have come this evening for a purpose which, perhaps, will—no doubt will—surprise you.” The Major looked affirmative, and wondered more and more what it could mean.
“I have come to ask your permission to pay my addresses to your daughter.”
If the Major was expecting to be surprised, he was more than surprised; he was dazed—he almost gasped.
“What?”