“I don’t mind it much myself,” said the skipper.
“You must be very wet,” said Miss Gething. “You are going to see mother, I suppose?”
“I did think of doing so,” said the skipper with joyous untruthfulness.
“I’m going to do a little shopping,” said she. “Good-bye.”
She nodded brightly, and the skipper, raising his cap, turned on his heel and set off to pay the call. He turned his head several times as he went, but Miss Gething, who knew more of men than the skipper knew of women, did not turn hers.
A quarter of an hour’s brisk walk brought him to the house, and he shook the rain from his cap as he knocked gently at the door. It was opened by a man, who, standing with his hand on the lock regarded him inquiringly.
“Mrs. Gething in?” asked the skipper.
“No, she’s not just at present,” said the other.
“I’ll come in and wait for her if you don’t mind,” said the skipper, speaking on the spur of the moment.
The other hesitated, and then standing aside to allow him to pass, closed the door, and they entered the small parlor together. The skipper, with a courage which surprised himself, took a chair uninvited and began to wipe his trousers with his handkerchief.