“Do you?” Uncle William looked at him again politely. “He has a good deal o’ trimmin’ on, but he looks like a nice sort o’ man.” “He is--he is--if he’s the one I think--” The man, who wore on his coat the decoration of several orders, had turned a little and was looking back over the crowd. The girl clasped her hands tightly. “Oh, it _is_,” she said under her breath. “It is.” Uncle William looked down almost jealously. “You set a good deal o’ store by seein’ him,” he said. “It isn’t that. I like him, yes, but he knows good work. If he really takes them in, he’ll not let them go.” Uncle William adjusted his spectacles again. “You mean--” “He will buy them, yes. Hush!” She held out her hand. The man had turned back to the pictures. He lifted a pair of eyeglasses that swung at the end of a long chain and placed them on his nose. He looked again at the picture before him. The glasses dropped from his nose, and he dipped to the catalogue he held in his hand. Uncle William’s glance followed him a little uneasily. “You mean he’ll buy my house?” he asked. She nodded, her face overflowing with happiness. Uncle William surveyed it. “I was cal’atin’ to have that one myself.” He said it almost grudgingly. “You were? Could you?” she faced him. “Couldn’t I have it as well as him?” He nodded toward the man in the distance intent on his catalogue. The girl’s brow wrinkled a little. “He is rich,” she said. “I didn’t know--” “Well, I ain’t rich,” said Uncle William, “but I reckon I could scrape together enough to pay for a picter.” The girl’s face lighted. “Of course, Alan would rather you had it. And he may buy one of the others.” The man had moved on a little, out of sight. The picture remained facing them. For a minute the crowd had parted in front of it and they saw it at the end of a long pathway. Uncle William drew a proud breath. “How much will it cost?” he said. She took up the catalogue from her lap and opened it, glancing down the page. “It must be here--somewhere. Yes, this is it--‘The House on the Rocks,’ $2000.” Uncle William’s jaw clicked a little as it came together. He held out a hand. “Will you jest let me look at that a minute?” he said. He ran his great finger down the page. When it came to the $2000, he pressed it a little with his thumb, as if expecting it to rub off. Then he looked at her, shaking his head. “It’s a leetle higher’n I can go,” he said slowly. “I wa’n’t expectin’ it would cost so much. You see, the house itself didn’t cost more’n three hunderd, all told, and I thought a picter of it wouldn’t cost more’n five or six.” “Five or six hundred?” Her eyes laughed. Uncle William shook his head guiltily. “Not more’n five or six dollars,” he said. “I reckon mebbe I _did_ put it a leetle low.” A smile had bloomed again in his face. “If he can pay the price, he’ll have to have it, I reckon--for all o’ me.”