"I haven't seen them yet," said Mark, "but I'm sure they will."
The rooms included a small sitting-room and bedroom. Mark looked at them with an indifference which brought disappointment to the face of the girl.
"Can I speak to your mother?"
"She's an invalid—and in bed, to-day. If you want to talk business you must talk with me."
Mark explained that he was anxious to build a shelter in the garden, at the edge of the wood. He added that unless the weather was unusually severe he should sleep, and eat, and work there. The rooms would do for a friend, who might come to see him from Saturday to Monday. He should want the simplest food, and so forth. The girl said that the carrying of meals to the shelter would be a nuisance, especially in rainy weather. Mark compromised by offering to eat indoors if the weather became wet or boisterous. A bargain was made in three minutes.
"When will you come?" said the girl.
"To-morrow. My name is Mark Samphire."
"Mother's name is Dew. I am Mary Dew."
"Mary Dew," repeated Mark. He had a tobacco-pouch in his hand and was filling a pipe. A pun occurred to him, execrable and therefore irresistible. "Honeydew is my constant companion," said he; "it is quite certain that we shall be friends."
Mary laughed.