214 OVER ON THE ISLAND
“Gu-day!”
I sat up again. There is something about being alone and travelling alone. You really meet people.
The venerable Micmac sat down.
We discussed the weather, the Island, where I came from, and why .
“I like your ring, ” he remarked. “What is it?”
“Silver, ” I replied briefly.
“Are you married?” he inquired.
Again!
“NO.”
”You are about eighteen or twenty?”
“About that . . .!”
“And you’re not married. Well, well. You’re too young anyway, and when you get married get a good man. Don’t get married until you are thirty or thirty-five. There’s few of them left . . .,” he went on glumly.
”Of what?”
“Good men.”
”I’m not interested in marriage just at present,” I advised him. “Have a sandwich?”
“Thanks . . .”
“Have another?”
“Thanks.”
”You’ll get lonesome if you don’t marry,” he confided.
“ I’ll consider the matter carefully.”
He waded out into the water.
“ Do you like oysters?”
“Rather!"
“Got a knife?”
(‘N0.7!