Happy Island

e you ’d do the wh

s and moor Uncle William’s chimney showed against the sky, and be

g across it, a kind of quie

liam, “is somebody that ’ll take everything off him—do all the figgerin’ and plannin’ that comes up and trot round and get things—men, you know—and t

wly as he talked, “I’d like to build a house like this one—such as he’s planning for.... There must be a good many t

I told Benjy.... You take the whole thing over—tell

said the man w

mebbe you couldn’t do it—but he’s kind o’ set on it.” He looked at th

it,” said Uncl

w ’d he know he could get men—here on

ckled a little. “I reckon he ’d ’a’ learned quite a

what it ’ll cost—What if a barge-load of lumber should be held up, gettin

rd ’em,” said

said t

put her in. She might up an

him what it will cost—not within a good many dollars—a house like tha

t slowly in his mind. “The Widow Deman’s well might go dry and then where

looked

,” Uncle William suggested, “if

way. I’m not going to make any contr

illiam. “S’pose you go see about the well whi

w rods away and Uncle William turned toward the tall

Look at that sky and water and all this—!” His gesture took in the rocks a

ckon it’s because the Lord’s done so well by it—got a chance to finish things up—without folks meddling too muc

the man with a little note of c

to the Widow Deman’s w

the contrac

guess, if you say so—If I was buildin’ a house, I’d j

e takes a notion—feathers his own nest whi

aid after a little pause. “It never come over me that you thought George wouldn’t do the square thing by you... and I guess he wouldn’t ’a’ got it through his head all summer—that you thought he w

e there was a man left, you co

and say nothin’—and places where they cheats and signs papers, and I do’ ’no’ ’s it’s any better ’n our way—just going along and doing as well as you can and expectin’ other folks to.... He’s coming back,” said Uncle William. They watch

ind it?” said

paper from his pocket and turned to Bodet—“I’ve been running it over in my mind

and swung his glasses to his nose. Uncle

. “What has the Widow Deman’s well got to

“That’s my idee, Benjy.” He

25,000, provided and allowed t

) George

” said Uncle William, “You’ve put it hi

t. “Ordway had figured twenty

ith satisfaction, “so ’s ’t you ’d get something back—’stead o’ having to pay out more ’n yo

in his hands through, and handed it back with a little courteous gesture of d

iving in stakes, and pulling them out, measuring lines and putting down new ones. While they were doing it, a big wind blew in around and proceeded t

Bodet, walking over to him. Two stra

et,” said the man. He held out t

ded. “I know—wher

u’ve got to build from the ground up

’ ’no’s I can tell you, George, what he wants it that way for—You see he set by th

ay anything about the idea,” he added, “He just kind o’ fussed around when I tried to shift her—” He looked at the paper in his hand. “Well—I

ng reaches of turf and the cropping sheep that moved across it in slow shapes. Uncle William drew a deep breath and turned to the man who stood silen

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