Mail Order Annie
Copyright© 2025 by DFL Runner
Chapter 2
Saturday evening, after dressing in his finest clothes, Harry smoothed his hair and walked the half mile or so to the Burke home near the town square. Knocking on the door, he was greeted by the Burke family’s butler, a young black man named Dwight.
“Mr. Crane, sir. A pleasure to see you, sir.”
“Good evening to you, Mr. Dwight. I am here to escort Miss Ella to the festival.”
It was a habit instilled into Harry by Martin Tanner. Everyone was deserving of respect in his mentor’s world, and he addressed everyone with all due respect. Harry didn’t realize that he and Mr. Tanner were the only ones who addressed the young man as “mister” and, in fact, were among the few outside the Burke home who even addressed him as “Dwight” and not “boy.”
But tonight, Dwight was smiling at one of the only townspeople who treated him as a relative equal and ushering him inside. “Mr. Crane, Miss Ella will be right out. How are you this evening, sir?”
Harry drew in a breath to answer him, but then he caught sight of Ella as she walked into the room.
Once again, he could scarcely breathe. He had seen the dress already, of course, but now the vision was supplemented by a simple white shawl around her head and a touch of cosmetics on her visage.
He was suddenly grateful for having followed Mr. Tanner’s advice to “unload his shotgun” before leaving home, particularly when Kenneth and his wife came in behind her.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he took Ella’s hand and kissed it. “You are so lovely tonight, Miss Ella,” he said, his voice soft and full of emotion.
A bright smile appeared on her face as she curtsied and said, “Thank you, Mr. Harry.”
Harry looked at Kenneth. “I’ll not keep her out too late, sir, and I’ll be sure to see her home safely.” They then turned and left the home, Harry nodding at Dwight as he passed.
The couple delighted in the festivities, and all too soon, the night came to a close. As the townsfolk dispersed to their respective residences, Harry and Ella, guided by the light of the full moon, started toward her home.
Harry was silent along the way, rapidly turning his thoughts over in his mind, seeking some way to appropriately express his feelings for her ... as an 17-year-old man, he could certainly think of plenty of inappropriate ways to express those feelings ... when Ella stopped at a clearing where a small collection of felled trees had been repurposed as a long bench where travelers along the road could pause for a moment to rest. Guiding him to the bench, she sat and gestured to a spot beside her, where Harry also sat.
“Harry,” she said, “I had a wonderful time tonight.”
“I ... I did, too,” he stammered.
“Will you forgive a young woman’s boldness for a moment, Harry?” Ella’s large eyes shone in the moonlight and bore into him as she asked the question. Harry just made a small gesture with his hand, inviting her to continue.
“I...” She briefly bit her lip. “I should like you to ask my father’s permission to court me. You certainly will hear no objection from me, but it would only be proper to ask him.”
Stunned, Harry asked, “But ... why me? I am only a tailor’s apprentice, certainly not a man of means.”
Ella looked at him reprovingly. “Harold Ormsbee Crane, everyone in town knows perfectly well that you are much more Martin Tanner’s business partner than his apprentice. Martin has taken no wife and has no children. Who do you suppose will take over his business when the Lord calls him home?”
“I ... I hadn’t really thought much about that,” Harry admitted.
In truth, he had, but only briefly. He didn’t want to consider a life without Martin Tanner in it. Martin had been more of a father to him than his own father. Many days he had watched his mentor out of the corner of his eye and wondered what his life might otherwise be like had his father’s life not come to a tragic end when Harry was a boy of eleven. James Crane had been unloading cargo from a ship when a cable snapped, sending a large crate plummeting to the dock below. Several men were injured when the crate fell and splintered apart, but Harry’s father was the lone fatality.