“The’s a good many things might happen,” allowed Uncle William, turning it slowly in his mind. “The Widow Deman’s well might go dry and then where ’d you be, with your mortar and plaster and cement, if that well run dry?” The man looked at him. “You ’d want to put the well in,” Uncle William suggested, “if you should make the contract—” “You can’t clutter up a contract that way. I’m not going to make any contract to build a house on this Island.” “He ’ll want to do what’s fair,” said Uncle William. “S’pose you go see about the well whilst I talk with him,” he added diplomatically. The man moved in the direction of a little house a few rods away and Uncle William turned toward the tall figure pacing back and forth on the short-cropped turf. Bodet turned as he came up. “Who cares about building a house!” he said. “Look at that sky and water and all this—!” His gesture took in the rocks and turf and the flock of sheep feeding their way up the hill to the horizon. Uncle William’s eye followed it all placidly. “You do get over being in a hurry—up here,” he said slowly, “I reckon it’s because the Lord’s done so well by it—got a chance to finish things up—without folks meddling too much—it seems kind o’ foolish to hurry ’bout things.... Well, George ’ll do your house for you—if you want him to.” “I’m willing to try him,” said the man with a little note of condescension. “Where’s he gone!” “He’s just stepped over to the Widow Deman’s well,” said Uncle William. “He ’ll sign the contract, of course!” “Well—” Uncle William hesitated. “He ’ll sign one, I guess, if you say so—If I was buildin’ a house, I’d just go ahead and build—if I could get George Manning.” The tall man fidgeted a little. “Suppose he takes a notion—feathers his own nest while he’s building my house,” he said at last. Uncle William’s eyes grew large—then they laughed. “George Manning ain’t a bird of the air, Benjy—and he’s pretty well past feathers now.... Curious, I didn’t understand about that contract,” he said 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 was going to cheat you—! Lucky I didn’t think of it,” he added, “I’d ’a’ made a muss of it somehow and you wouldn’t ’a’ got your house built—not this year, anyhow.” He looked at him sympathetically. Bodet smiled. “I didn’t suppose there was a man left, you could trust like that,” he said.