And then-- On the night before commencement Mr.Harold Hartshorn ascended our front steps, rang the bell, and called for my father.

I knew because I was upstairs in my room over the front door; and I saw him come up the walk and heard him ask for Father.
Oh, joy! Oh, happy day! He knew.

He had seen it as I saw it.

He had come to gain Father's permission, that he might be a duly accredited suitor for my hand! During the next ecstatic ten minutes, with my hand pressed against my wildly beating heart, I planned my wedding dress, selected with care and discrimination my trousseau, furnished the rose-embowered cottage far from the madding crowd--and wondered _why_ Father did not send for me.

Then the slam of the screen door downstairs sent me to the window, a sickening terror within me, Was he _going_--without seeing me, his future bride?
Impossible! Father and Mr.Harold Hartshorn stood on the front steps below, talking.