His face resumed its calm and he strolled from room to room, giving advice and enjoying life. “I do like a big, comfortable storm like this,” he said, standing at the window and looking out across the black-stretched harbor. “Everything snug down there,” he waved his hand to the bleakness, “—and everything going all right up here to your house—going along putty good, that is,” he added conscientiously. Bodet came and stood beside him, looking out. “It suits me,” he said. “I don’t want anything better than this—except to have the children back,” he added after a minute. “They ’ll be’long byme-by, Benjy.” Uncle William’s gaze was on the blackened water. “They ’ll be’long—and the little one with ’em.... You ought to have somebody to keep house for you, Benjy—till they come—” He turned and looked at him—“Want me to lend you Celia awhile?” he said craftily, “—just whilst you’re finishing up? She likes it out there—” he nodded to the kitchen. “She likes it fust-rate out there and I don’t mind letting you have her—you can have her just as well as not.” He studied the keen face opposite him. The man shook his head. “I don’t need her, William—I’ve sent for some one—a Jap that I knew years ago. He took care of me over there when I was with the Embassy. He said he ’d come to me any time I sent for him—so I sent.” Uncle William beamed. “Now, ain’t that good! And it’s good his bein’ a man!” he added thoughtfully. “I like women. I do’ ’no’ anybody’t I like better ’n I do women—but sometimes they’re kind o’ trying.” His ear listened to the clink of dishes from the kitchen. Bodet laughed—“Well, he’s a man—Jimmu Yoshitomo’s a man—though you don’t think about it—either way.” Uncle William nodded. “I know what you mean, Benjy—they’ve got way past that—Japs have—past being men and women—they’re just old, and kind o’ human—and not just human either,” he added slowly, “I do’ ’no’ what it is... but I feel different when they’re round—kind o’ sleepy, somehow—the way I feel on the Island, still days—when the sun shines?” He looked at him inquiringly. “That’s it. I’ve always meant to have a Jap when I had a home, and now I have the home.” He looked about the big room contentedly. Celia came to the door and looked in. “I’m going to set the table in here,” she announced, “—by the fire.” She set the table and called the men and returned to her kitchen. Uncle William followed her with inquiring step—“You come and eat your dinner out here with the rest of us, Celia, whilst it’s hot,” he commanded. “I’ve got things to do—I can’t be bothered to eat now.” She shut the door on him.