Uncle William: The Man Who Was Shif'lessLee, Jennette
General
Uncle William: The Man Who Was Shif'less
Lee, Jennette
Fiction
“Of course.” The young man rose, holding out a hand. “I’m glad to meet
you, sir. I shall be back in a minute. I’ll bring him right up.” His
step rang quick on the rock outside.
The two old men looked at each other.
Uncle William’s face wore its roundest smile. “I wouldn’t be s’prised if
he stayed quite a spell.” He brought a chair and planted it in front of
the stranger. “Set down.”
The man sat down, looking around the room. “It is good to be here,” he
said.
Uncle William, with a hand on either knee, surveyed him over his
spectacles. “I saw ’t was you ’fore you landed.”
The man’s face fell a little. “We wanted to surprise you--”
“You’ve s’prised _him_ all right. He hain’t no idea what he’s runnin’
to.” He looked toward the door. “I reckon he’ll stay an hour.”
The man crossed one thin leg over another. “That gives me more time,” he
said contentedly.
Uncle William gazed politely. “Was you wantin’ time?” he asked.
The man smiled. “I wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to see _me_?” Uncle William’s face held pleasure, but not
very much curiosity.
The man nodded. “I came on purpose.”
“You did? I thought you come to bring her?” His thumb indicated the
beach.
“I wanted to see you, and she wanted to come, so here we are.”
“Here you be,” assented Uncle William. “And I’m glad to see ye. He was
gettin’ middlin’ hard to hold.”
The other man studied his face. “How much will you take for your place?”
he asked.
Uncle William looked up. He shook his head slowly. “I won’t take
nuthin’.”
The man smiled. “I’ll give you five thousand for it.”
“You will?” Uncle William’s glance was mild. A smile crept into it. “I
wish ’t Andy could hear you say that,” he said; “but I can’t sell.”
“Why not?”
“Where’d I live?”
The stranger appeared to ponder a minute. “You could keep enough to live
on,” he said at last. “I’d rather have you, in fact.”
“I’ll give _you_ enough to live on,” said Uncle William. “I like your
looks. I’d like to have you round.”
“That won’t do for me,” said the man.
“‘T won’t do for me, either,” said Uncle William.
They confronted each other. The stranger’s eyes dropped first. “I’ll
give you ten thousand,” he said quietly.
“You will?” Uncle William moistened his lips with his tongue. “I’ll
_hev_ to go tell Andy that,” he said.
“You’ll take it?”
“Lord, no, I couldn’t take it! Nor twenty thousand; so don’t you go
offerin’ it to me. I _should_ like to tell Andy you was offerin’ it,
though.”
The man laughed out. “I was thinking of it,” he said.
Uncle William leaned forward, looking at him. “What are you so set on
buyin’ my place for? It’s a God-forsaken spot--most folks would call it.
Andy does.”
“I like it,” said the man.
“So do I,” said Uncle William.
The Frenchman waited a minute. Then he turned a little, looking into
Uncle William’s face. “Did you ever see be before?” he asked slowly.
Uncle William returned the look in full measure. “You ain’t forgot I saw
you in New York--‘long in the spring?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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