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.