Uncle William drew out the blue paper and looked at it fondly. “I’m helping Benjy decide what he wants—from time to time.” He spread out the paper on his knee. Andy turned his back and looked out to sea—sideways. “Want to see ’em, Andy?” asked Uncle William. “I don’t care.” “It’s a good place to see ’em.” Uncle William glanced at the flat rock. He laid down the blue paper and smoothed the curly edges with big, careful fingers. “You get two-three stones, Andy—to anchor ’em down—” Andy got up with an indifferent air and wandered off, gathering in a handful of small rocks. “That’s good—put one of ’em here—and one here—and here. That’s good!” Uncle William leaned back and looked at it with simple delight. Andy’s air was detached. Uncle William glanced at him. His gaze softened. “This is Benjy’s room,” he said. His finger followed a white dotted line on the paper. Andy bent a little. “An’ here the lib’ry—and the gallery—” “The what?” Andy ducked a little toward the plan. “That’s the gallery—didn’t I tell ye, Andy?” “No.” Andy’s mouth was open at it. “It’s for picters, you know, and marble things—kind o’ standing round.” “Huh!” The mouth closed. “It ’ll be quite nice, I reckon—when it’s done. I can see he sets store by it—” Uncle William’s finger hovered dubiously about the spot. “An’ this part here—all this wing—is for Sergia and him—Alan—” “They ain’t here,” said Andy. “But they’re going to be here sometime,” said Uncle William cheerfully. “It ’ll be quite a fam’ly then.” He gazed at the blue paper fondly. “I do like a fam’ly—seems kind o’ foolish to build a house and not have a fam’ly.” Andy said nothing. His eye was studying a corner of the plan. “What’s that?” he demanded. Uncle William bent to it. He lifted his face, beaming. “‘W’s room’—That’s my room,” he said. Andy glared at it. “You going to live there—with him!” “Why, no, Andy—not just live there—It’s a kind o’ place for me to stay nights, you know—if I get caught up there—stormy weather?” Uncle William looked at him a little anxiously. Andy got up. “I’ve got to go ’long,” he said. Uncle William’s face held him sympathetically. “I was goin’ to show you the rest of the plans,” he said. “I don’t care about ’em,” said Andy. He moved away. Uncle William’s big fingers found a stub of pencil in his pocket and brought it out. “I was thinking, Andy—” he said slowly. Andy turned back—a little. “I was wondering if you ’d mind havin’ the same room as me—up to Benjy’s?” “I don’t want no room,” said Andy. “I couldn’t stay away nights.” He looked at the paper with gloomy eye. Uncle William wet the pencil with careful tongue and bent over the paper. His fingers traced a large, scrawling A. “There!” He leaned back, looking at it with satisfied gaze. “‘A and W’s room’—looks good, don’t it!” His face beamed on Andy. The gloom relaxed a little. “It don’t mean nothing,” said Andy.