Uncle William: The Man Who Was Shif'less Part 30

"You was twelve year old that summer," said Uncle William. "Your folks come into property, didn't they, over there?"

"Yes--on my mother's side. We took her name. I was sick for months after we got there--homesick, cooped up in rooms."

"You poor little chap!" Uncle William surveyed him. Affection was in his eyes, and memory. "You was al'ays a kind o' peaked little thing," he said reflectively. "You hain't changed much--when you come to look. Take off your whiskers and slick up your hair and fetch down your eyebrows a little--jest about the same."

The man laughed out. He swung his eyegla.s.ses boyishly from their chain.

"Well, you're not."

"Me?" Uncle William looked down at his bulk. "More of me--bigger a little, sort o', mebbe."

The man nodded. "But just the same underneath."

"Jest the same," said Uncle William.

The man drew a deep breath. "I've traveled all over the world. There's no place like this anywhere."

"Nowheres," said Uncle William, fervently.

"I shall spend my days here."

"Right here," a.s.sented Uncle William.

The man looked at him keenly. "Will you sell?"

Uncle William shook his head. "I'll divide."

The man held out his hand. "It's a bargain."

Uncle William took it and held it fast. His eyes twinkled. "I _must_ go and tell Andy," he said. "He'll be reel pleased."

"Andy?" The man's face lighted. "You don't mean Andy Halloran? Is he here yet?"

"Right on deck; jest slid down the rock here this minute," said Uncle William.

The man's eyes twinkled. "Remember the day he took my lobster-pot?"

"Borrowed it," said Uncle William, dryly.

"Borrowed it," a.s.sented the man. He chuckled a little. "He got his pay."

Uncle William nodded. "He al'ays does. Andy's borrowin' lobster-pots now--same Andy--gets his pay every time. He's great on gettin' his pay, Andy is."

"He ought to have made a mean man," said the other, thoughtfully.

"Well, he hain't, not so to speak," said Uncle William, slowly. "There's mean spots--rocks; you hev to steer some, but it's sandy bottom if you know how to make it. I've anch.o.r.ed on him a good many year now and I never knew him to slip anchor. It may drift a little now and then. Any bottom will drift."

The man laughed out. "So it will." He took up his hat. "I must go and look up a place to stay," he said.

Uncle William looked at him sternly. "Not a step. You don't stir a step, Benjy Bodet." He pointed to the red lounge.

The Frenchman paused, irresolute. "I'm going to stay some time, you know." He glanced about the little room. "I shall be in the way."

"You set right down," said Uncle William.

The man looked at him with raised brows. "You want me?"

"Want you? Why shouldn't I want you!" roared Uncle William. "I've been waitin' for you sixty year and odd. Set down!"

The Frenchman sat down on the red lounge and crossed his legs.

A ball of gray fur descended upon them and fluffed itself, purring.

He peered at it uncertainly. He swung the gla.s.ses to place upon his nose, surveying it.

"Now, don't that show?" demanded Uncle William. "She don't take to strangers--never. Look at her." She was kneading her paws in the thin knees, delicately, with treading softness.

The Frenchman's eyes lighted. "She's your cat?"

"She is," said Uncle William, "and she knows a lot. If she says you're goin' to stay, you're goin' to. You won't leave here, not till you've built over there on the old cellar place." He waved his hand toward the horizon. "I'll help ye build," he exclaimed. "They ain't nuthin' I like better'n potterin' around and tellin' folks what to do. I can't fish till the _Jennie's_ done and I'll turn to and help. The' 's a girl I can get to do the work. She's a good cook, and she'll come down and do for us--be glad to." He rubbed his hands, beaming upon his guest.

The Frenchman stroked the gray fur with slow touch. "I might take the young man's place," he said thoughtfully.

Uncle William paused. "Lord! I'd clean forgot--I feel about twelve year old," he added apologetically. "But don't you worry. This house'll stretch. We three'll get along all right in it."

"And Sergia?" said the man, with a smile.

Uncle William rubbed his head. "Um--I'd forgot _her_, too."

The man laughed out. "You don't need to worry. I'm going to lend them my yacht for a trip."

"Both on 'em?" asked Uncle William. His puzzled face gazed at the man.

"Yes."

Uncle William stared. Then the light dawned. "Right off?" he demanded.

"Right off," said the man. "And when they come back, the house will be ready for them."

Uncle William glowed. "They goin' to live with you?"

"I hope so."

"Well, well!" He rubbed his great knees thoughtfully with either hand.

"I wouldn't ever 'a' thought o' that. And the Lord himself couldn't 'a'

planned anything better 'n that."

"Thank you," said the man, smiling.

"Jest the right thing," went on Uncle William. "And byme-by there'll be little toddlers--gettin' over the rocks between here and there."