"You may be wanting it in a year or so," I said, wishing to be pleasant.
"I guess we won't use his room for that," Jack answered in a low voice.
Then he offered me a cigar from a fresh box in the parlour, and he took one, and we lit them, and went out; and as we opened the front door there was Mamie Brewster standing in the path as if she were waiting for us. She was a fine-looking girl, and I didn't wonder that Jack had been willing to wait three years for her. I could see that she hadn't been brought up on steam-heat and cold storage, but had grown into a woman by the sea-shore. She had brown eyes, and fine brown hair, and a good figure.
"This is Captain Torkeldsen," said Jack. "This is Miss Brewster, captain; and she is glad to see you."
"Well, I am," said Miss Mamie, "for Jack has often talked to us about you, captain."
She put out her hand, and took mine and shook it heartily, and I suppose I said something, but I know I didn't say much.
The front door of the cottage looked toward the sea, and there was a straight path leading to the gate on the beach road. There was another path from the steps of the cottage that turned to the right, broad enough for two people to walk easily, and it led straight across the fields through gates to a larger house about a quarter of a mile away. That was where Mamie's mother lived, and the wedding was to be there. Jack asked me whether I would like to look round the farm before dinner, but I told him I didn't know much about farms. Then he said he just wanted to look round himself a bit, as he mightn't have much more chance that day; and he smiled, and Mamie laughed.
"Show the captain the way to the house, Mamie," he said. "I'll be along in a minute."
So Mamie and I began to walk along the path, and Jack went up toward the barn.