“You can set with your back to it, Andy,” said Uncle William kindly. “You don’t need to go stun-blind—not to see it.” “They won’t let him have it on the Island,” said Andy. He sat down and glared at the picture of an innocent cow—of the Dutch school. “Well, I do’ ’no’, Andy.” Uncle William studied the picture with lenient eyes. “She’s kind o’ young and pretty—The’ ain’t much about this climate in it—” He glanced casually up at the glass roof above them. “Come along winter, now—when the winds get to shrieking and blowing up there—it ’ll seem kind o’ queer to see her standin’ on a hank—like that—all ready to jump in so, won’t it?” Andy turned his head a little and craned his neck. “I’ve been in countries,” went on Uncle William, “where that ’d seem putty good—Italy, now—best kind of place—warm and summery always—year ’round. Seems ’s if in this climate we ’d ought to paint furs and woolen goods more. I don’t suppose Benjy knew where he was going to hang his pictures when he bought ’em—just gathered ’em up most anywheres—without thinkin’ how they ’d look hung up.” “He’s coming,” said Andy. He wheeled about on his box. The man stood in the doorway, looking at them with pleased eyes. “I thought I should find you here.” The glasses dangled from their long chain and he swung them a little, smiling.... “What do you think is down in the harbor?” he said quietly— Uncle William got to his feet—“Hev they come, Benjy?” “Looks like it,” said the man. “If I know my own yacht—she’s just dropped anchor off the Island.” Uncle William cast a quick glance at the glass roof overhead. “You can’t see anything there,” said Bodet smiling. “Come on out.” They went quickly from the house—out to the edge of the cliff. Beneath the cliff, close to the Jennie, a big white boat swung at anchor, and on the deck a man and woman stood looking up to the Island. “She’s got it with her, Benjy!” said Uncle William. He leaned over the cliff. Little white garments in the woman’s arms fluttered softly. The woman looked up and saw them and raised the child high in her arms, lifting it to them in the shining harbor light. XXVIII