Benjy smiled—the thin, sweet smile that seemed to come of itself from somewhere behind the high, nervous features, when Uncle William’s voice spoke to it, “All right, William, I won’t mind—now I’ve got Ordway off my hands. I thought one time he would drive me crazy—” “I didn’t know but he would, too,” said Uncle William, “You acted kind o’ queer.” “Well, I felt kind o’ queer,” responded Bodet dryly. “Now, about Manning—We ’ll go talk things over with him.... He might do—with a little watching.” IX BENJY thought mebbe you ’d do the whole thing, George!” The three men stood on the site of the new house. Across the rocks and moor Uncle William’s chimney showed against the sky, and below them the water of the harbor dimpled in little waves of light. Benjamin Bodet stood looking across it, a kind of quiet satisfaction in his face. “He’s been a good deal bothered,” said Uncle William to the younger man. They moved a little aside and looked at him. “What he wants,” said Uncle William, “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 things you run out of and can’t get on the Island. It’s kind o’ hard building out at sea,” he said tentatively, “But you could do it?” He turned to him. “Yes, I could do it—if he wants me to,” said Manning. He held the stalk of grass between his teeth and it turned slowly 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 things come up, you won’t know how to do.” He moved his hand toward the circumference about them, with a half gesture. “That’s it,” said Uncle William, “That’s just what I told Benjy.... You take the whole thing over—tell him how much ’twill cost, and so on—figger it out?” “Beforehand!” said the man with a slow look. Uncle William nodded. “He wants to know before he begins. I told him mebbe you couldn’t do it—but he’s kind o’ set on it.” He looked at the other a little anxiously. The man chewed the bit of grass in silence. “Ordway ’d done it,” said Uncle William simply. Manning turned a slow eye on him. “How ’d he know he could get men—here on the Island—and keep ’em!” he demanded. “Well, he didn’t know it, George.” Uncle William chuckled a little. “I reckon he ’d ’a’ learned quite a few things about the Island—if he ’d ’a’ kep’ on it.” “I reckon he would,” said the man with a slow smile. “I can’t tell Bodet what it ’ll cost—What if a barge-load of lumber should be held up, getting here?—Might have to wait weeks—Suppose I can’t get anybody to board ’em—” “Andy ’ll board ’em,” said Uncle William. “Umph,” said the man. “An’ Andy’s wife—you want to put her in. She might up an’ say she wouldn’t, any day?” Manning shook his head. “I can’t sign any contract, and I can’t tell him what it will cost—not within a good many dollars—a house like that—but if he wants me to build it, I’ll take it and do my best for him.”