Happy Island

dway might be right, after all.... He looked at different forms of lattice-work and stone foundations and swore softly at a terrace—Ordway’s idea—with morning glories alo

and sat on the rocks a long while and looked at the wate

re a little,” repl

to home?” d

o home,” adm

ed toward

,” said William, “He’s kind o’

illiam—in his element—went back and forth between the old chimney-place and his house, carrying ideas and bricks with impartial hand. George Manning, with one eye on his plans and the other on his men, pushed the work or held it back, as the wind blew.

a week or more, that he came in one morni

Uncle William was pottering about, finishing the last of the d

. The tone was mild. He had had a good night’s rest, and he had come somehow to share Uncle Willi

, his hat between his knees. “I don’t suppose

ically and swung his glasses to hi

ybe. You drop the floor of the south room to get your level

it in cauti

ndicated the rough lines, “—just where you want them—You kind of look dow

studied it wi

t o’ climbs down the rocks, don’t it?” he suggested. “I’ve seen them that way—foreign parts—a lot.” The g

get it?” He looked at the young man. “Y

let the roof-line be touched, nor the ground, and there wasn’t anything left to give way—but the f

n, “We ’ll have a little railing here, with carving on it, and something leading up to it—It’s the feat

lumber and the new masons came this morning. I was kind of bothered about their not getting here, and the Widow Deman’s w

face. “He’s a nice boy,” he said, “You just

, “He ought to be somewhere besides on t

sked Uncle William,

phasis. “It’s all right for you and me

ur bed and two-three things,” and he flaxed

e doing, William?” he said. “We’re out of it. We’v

e, ain’t we? But I do’ ’no’s I ever had a better one ’n I’m havi

t do, William. A young man must go

ble fussy—getting ’em clean and keepin’ ahead, so ’s ’t you ’ll have enough for a meal—and I’m putty glad Celia’s coming back.... I’ve thought about it, Benjy—a good many times—” He came over and sat down, “—’bout living here on the Island. We don’t hurry much, but seems to me we get

e other, swinging his long g

ir—different from my way.” Uncle William regarded his great legs with kindly eye.

ned with a quick smile, “There are not

w happy I be—Seems kind o’ shiftless,” he added thoughtfully, “Like enou

s going to—when he’s finished my house.... It’s

ning—I like to keep a-doing—kind o’ gradual-like—al’ays did.... I can’t s

e Lord, Willia

he does things—and kind o’ enjoying his ways,” he added softly.... “The’s suthin’-about it—suthin’ about the way the tides come in and the sun goes down and the stars come out—that makes you feel glad. I’ve seen George Manning, a good many times—when we was out,

he kind o’ skim along good, Benjy!” The smile on his big face kindled and deepened. “It’s most too bad George

“You better let well e

for him to see her—will it?... You got back pretty quick, Cel

e glanced about the room, “You did the di

Uncle William. “We had company whil

building his house for him?” She nodded at B

hat’s the one, Celia—You ain

,” she said shortly, “That’s nea

e. “I guess I’ll go ’long up with