Benjamin rose and stretched his long legs. The sun shone brilliantly and the salt air was alive with the freshness of summer. He strolled to the window and looked in.... Uncle William, on his knees by the red lounge, was poking things under with swift, efficient touch. He looked up and nodded. “Don’t you wait, Benjy. I’m most done. The’s just two-three things got strayed around—” He gathered up a plate and saucer, with the remnants of Juno’s supper, and carried them across to the sink. He opened the cupboard door underneath and thrust them in.... “The’s a few things left,” he said apologetically, “if I raked way in under for ’em, mebbe. But we’ve got enough to run along—quite a spell now.” He glanced affectionately at the stove and the rows of shining cups and plates ranged on the shelf above the sink. Benjamin’s eye followed the glance with a touch of amusement and a little impatience, “Oh, come on, William. You ’d let things run a week and then you ’d scrub all day—” Uncle William’s face beamed. “That’s right, Benjy. That’s just the way I like it—now, how ’d you know!” “Well, I have eyes,” said Benjamin dryly, “and I’ve been living with you a month or so, you know.” “That’s so, Benjy—and don’t it seem good!” Uncle William came to the window and patted the thin hand resting on the sill. “I’m coming right along, now, soon’s I get my apron off—” His fingers tugged at the strings of the big oil cloth pattern that encompassed him. Benjamin’s eye waited, impatient—“You ’ll get rid of all that fuss when the new girl comes,” he said. Uncle William’s mouth opened and looked at him. Then it closed and Uncle William shook his head. “I’d clean forgot her,” he said slowly, “and if I don’t send her word today, she can’t come for two weeks—nor four, mebbe. The boats don’t run right.” He reached up to the clock for the pen and bottle of ink that stood there. Benjamin moved with restless indecision and Uncle William glanced at him. “You run along, Benjy,” he said kindly, “That contractor ’ll be waiting for you—” “He’s been waiting,” said Benjy quickly, “—an hour at least.” “Yes, yes—I know. Don’t you wait—” Uncle William’s eye was on the paper and he was mumbling words to the ink bottle.... “I’ll be—right along—Benjy—sometime—” The tall man turned from the window and strode over the rocks.