Uncle William, mending his net, did not look up. The man paused beside him, and looked about—with pleased, expansive eye. Uncle William’s glance rested on him. The man looked down. “Good morning, Mr. Benslow—I’ve come back, you see.” “I see ye,” said Uncle William. The man filled his chest. “I’ve come to see how they’re getting on—over at my place. I bought a small piece, of Halloran, you know—You heard about it, I presume?” “Andy said suthin’ about your wantin’ to buy of him,” said Uncle William discreetly. “Yes, I bought his house and what land goes with it. It’s small—but there didn’t seem to be much land for sale around here—” He dropped a casual eye in Uncle William’s direction. Uncle William’s face was placid. “I’m building a little,” said the man. “So I heard tell,” said Uncle William. “It’s a great place,” said the man. His chest expanded a little more. “I shall advertise, of course, and I expect a good class of patrons for this place.” He balanced himself on his toes and looked down on Uncle William benignantly. Uncle William went on mending his net. His blue eyes squinted at the meshes and his big arms moved hack and forth in even rhythm. The man looked down at him doubtfully. Then he found a nail keg—a stout one—and sat down. “I want to be on good terms with my neighbors, Mr. Benslow,” he said genially. He was leaning forward a little, toward Uncle William, one arm resting on his knee and the hand spread out toward him. Uncle William looked at it a minute. Then he pushed up his spectacles and looked out to sea. “The’ ain’t many neighbors round here,” he said, “—jest me and Benjy—and Andy.” “That’s what I meant,” said the man, “only I’m the neighbor now instead of—Hallo!—There’s Halloran himself. I want to speak to him,” He rose cautiously from his keg and motioned to Andy who was disappearing behind a pile of lumber down on the dock. Andy came out, a little grudgingly, it seemed, and the man moved forward to meet him. Uncle William went on mending his net. When the man returned his face had a reddish look and his voice was a little controlled and stiff. “Halloran tells me you’ve put an injunction on my work up there?” He moved his hand toward the cliff. Uncle William held up his net and squinted at it. “We-l-l,” he said slowly, “we told ’em they better not do any more building—not till you come.” He looked at him mildly. There was silence on the beach. The galls sailed overhead and the waves lapped softly, rippling up and back, with little salt washes. Uncle William looked about him with contented gaze. “We don’t really need a hotel on the Island, Mr. Carter—not really,” he said slowly.