Uncle William

nes. The artist knew the lines by heart, and the soft collar and loose-flowing tie and careless dress. He had been leaning back with closed eyes, watching the lithe fi

e rocky path. With a snap, the young man closed the locket and sat up. The door opened on Uncle William, shining and gruff. T

ll right," he said, n

raining. Y

ops. Juno lifted her head and yawned. She purred softly. The old man hung his hat and coat on the wooden pegs behind the door and se

d slipped from his fingers and hung lightly on its s

It took quite a spell. I couldn't find the extry anchor. He'd got it stowed away for'ard somewheres, and by the time I fo

wn himself to l

from his place, down and back. He

or up there," said t

ish and part Scotch. He al'ays has anchored here and I reckon he al'

his land

reely, but I offered him more'n he could sta

orage and right of way and you look after his

ld feel kind o' lonesome nights not to hev his boat to look after-and know, like as not, in the mornin' he'll come down, cussin' and swearin' 'cause she wa'n't fixed jest right." He peered into the kettle on the stove. "'Most empty." He filled it from the pail by the sink, and resumed his seat, stretching his great legs comfortably. Juno sprang from t

m," assented

p with a swift twink

swayed on its chain and his hand tou

illiam, soothingly. "Only I thought y

a

liam said

ward. "Do you want to see her?"

ehind the clock and placed them on his nose. Then he reached out his great hand for

artist laid the l

The old man studied it thoughtfully. On the stove the kettle had b

him with a satisfied look. "You've had a good deal m

can't tell-from that."

surest of is that it's deeper'n we be." He chuckled softly. "Now, I wouldn't pertend to know all about her,"-he waved his hand,-"but she's big and she's fresh-salt, too-and she makes your heart big just to look at her-the way

ia Lv

, yet with a certain ease. "That's a cur'us

s Rus

v to squeeze past all the nations of the earth to get to her-half choked afore you fairly get there. Yes, I sailed there once, up through Skager Rack and Cattegat along up the Baltic and the Gulf of Finland, just edging along-" He hel

t there now. She's in Ne

cle William looked at the pi

"Oh, it's not so

that's goin' to be happy." He looked again at the clear, fea

ing. How di

t jest that way. I didn't know as she sung songs on a platform, dressed up,

n't sing in public. But her voice"-his eyes grew dark-"it makes you want to la

t on him kindly. "She's

mother after that. She has no one. She teaches music-piano and violin-night and day. Sometimes she giv

ds a-blowin' and sousin' the deck-and a-gettin' out the boats and yellin' and shoutin'-Seems 's if it ought to 'a' been excitin'. But Lord! 'twa'n't nuthin' to what I've felt other times-times when it was

ght to be an artist. That's t

e kind o' hard work, settin' still and doin' art when

boyishly. He reached o

r-every day," he said. "You can see that, plain enough. She don't hev to be

fford it-years." T

he locket and pushed up his spectacles again, beaming beneath them. "Seems to me," he said slow

u live on?" sa

arried once," he said after a pause. "I didn't. I guess it's about the wust mistake I ever made. I thought this house wa'n't good enough for her."

and the fire crac

h and makin' money and gettin' a better boat. And about that time she died. I begun to learn things then-slow-like-when I hadn't the heart to work. If I

ing at Uncle William with the superior smile of youth, a

, thrown in, good enough if you get it, but not necessary-no, not necessary. Livin's the

ly. "That's what all the great a

. I ain't an artist. But I've had

inking what a dear old duffer the man was-with his curious, impracticable philosophy o

at hot water looks to me just about right." He eyed the tea-kettle critically. "You hand over

must be getting back." He glanced at t

bed for ye here on the lounge,-it's a fust-rate bed; I've slep' on it myself, time and again,-and then in the mornin' you'll be on hand to go to work-save

fire darted up the wall and ran quivering along the red. Outside the

lled for a moment the house creaked mysteriously, whispering, and when the gale returned a sound of flying

"You can go to sleep all right, now," he said soothingly. "There wa'n't but seven brick