Happy Island

pan in his hand, and looked out. He took in great sniffs of salt air, looking over his spectacles at the moor and the sky light on the rocks and the stretch of his face was mild and happy, an

s that did not hurry. He held an envelope in

His look welcomed the whole world shut up in the bit of envelope. He took it and studied the inscription and push

seated himself on a rock and plucked

to the doorway—filling it, with the big, checked apron

eve I have,

e bit of grass between his teeth. His glance sought

the sheet and smoothed it on his knee and rubbed his fingers on his apron, and took up the pap

h—

er and took off his glasses, waving them at

d and looked

she can’t come yet—not just yet.” He mumbled to the words kindly.... “It’s her clothes,” he volunteered, “

the young man. His tone was ev

. “You wa ’n’t ever much acquai

s,” said the young ma

But I’ve kind o’ watched ’em—between times—women. They’re interes

e opposite him. “Men are go

men—sensible—know

like about women—you can’t tell what they mean—it keeps y

George carelessly. His eye was on the dark wa

ut when I have a minute or two, quiet-like, to myself.” He touched the letter in his hand, almost reverently, “The’s suthin about women ’t I can’t make out—” he said, “If it’s a wedding or a funeral or goi

the look tolerantly.

t. It’s kind o’ like goin’ to church to ’em and they don’t really feel right without they’re doing it.... It’s kind o’ pretty to see ’em—al’ays a-makin’ and p

on the rock st

getting her clothes ready.” He was smiling at the letter. “It’s when they stop th

he stopped and looked at Uncle Wil

out for sailin’. Harr’et wouldn’t waste new sails on her.... And that kind o’ hard way she has of doin’ her hair—like a doughnut—only harder—” Uncle William rubbed the back of his head reflectiv

face had an alert look. “I never thought about women that way before,” he said, turning the bit of grass in his teeth.

she ’d kind o’ keep you guessing,”

going,” said Geo

feet, looking about him, “The’s two-three little things I wanted

nd Uncle William tucked th

from his pocket and filed the catch a little, wh

and bent over the young man, a hand on either knee. “I al’ays li

mes in the lock—“That ’ll work,” he said. He go

like you up to his pla

” The tone was non-committal and dry. T

from Boston—yes. Benjy’s a good deal b

n’t want to be building—as l

,” said Unc

ong any day now,” said the youn

swer—“You just think it over. Mebbe he won’t need you. But if he does—you ’ll hev to help him