“I was a boy of 21 years at the time,” began Mr. Clark, “and a student at the University of North Carolina. That was before I moved to Baltimore, and when I lived in Smithfield. I happened during a trip to Norfolk, Va.
“While in the city, I decided to call on a girl whom I had met at the University dances. She was a pretty little creature, and had been on my mind since I met her. I had not seen much of her during her short stay at the University, and had never written to her. Although I did not know it, the young lady lived in Richmond, instead of Norfolk.
“But I hastily picked up a telephone directory and began searching for her family name. I found two such names in the directory, picked out one by chance and called up.
“’Why, yes. I’ll call her to the phone immediately,’ came the response to my question.
“My heart beat fast as presently a dainty voice floated over the wire.
“’This is Dave Clark,’ I chirped, waiting anxiously for the little gasp of surprise I thought would come, Instead, a short delay followed; then confession that she didn’t believe she knew Dave Clark.
“’Why, I met you at Chapel Hill, North Carolina, last year,’ I explained, feeling sure that then she would certainly remember me.
“’That’s strange,’ she retorted. ‘I have never been to North Carolina in my life.’
“That floored me entirely and she realized it. I was just on the point of hanging up the receiver in utter dismay when she suggested, ‘Maybe you met me somewhere else and have forgotten where it was. Suppose you come out to my home and I’ll see if I know you? Will you?’
“You bet I would. Here was romance in all its glory. I realized that I could not possibly know the girl—but who was she? I didn’t take the time to debate the question with myself. I grabbed my hat and ran out to the street. Hailing a car, I climbed in and waited patiently for Boissevain avenue, my destination.
“After what seemed hours of suspense, I reached it. Walking half a block, I passed before a large brick house with stately white columns. It was the number I wanted. Quickly I mounted the steps and rang the bell. My heart was ready to jump out of my mouth. In a few moments, an old woman came to the door and opened it. Probably her grandmother.
“’Is Miss ---- in?’ I asked.
“’ Why, yes,’ came the reply. ‘I am Miss ----.”
“ I came down to earth in a hurry. Romance fled to the four winds. The joke was on me. I gasped in astonishment.
“’I’m sorry,’ she explained, ‘but you didn’t explain why you wanted to see me, and I thought probably you were some old friend of the family. It really is funny, though.’
“And with that she drew back her head and emitted a laugh that echoed and re-echoed through the streets. I felt like a doodle bug in a rattle snake’s hole.
“’But I tell you what,’ she suddenly suggested, as she ceased laughing, ‘I know I ought to make up for this in some way, so if you want me to, I’ll telephone to a little niece of mine from Boston who is visiting down from Boston who is visiting down on the next block. She is pretty and lonesome. She arrived in Norfolk this afternoon.’
“Well, the little niece came over—and she was a wonder. I don’t mind telling you her name. It was Audrey Castleton. Now it is Mrs. David Clark. I married her as soon as I left college and was earning a decent salary.
“So you see, romance came back. You also know now why this little story stand out above all else in my life.”
From The Charlotte News, August 21, 1921
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