XVIII

They met midway in the room. The two tall men stood facing each other,
overtopping the crowd. The Frenchman held out his hand. "I am glad to
meet you," he said.

Uncle William took the thin hand in his hearty one. "I am glad to meet
_you_," he responded. "Sergia's been tellin' me about you. She said you
liked the picter over yonder." Uncle William's thumb described the arc
of a circle.

The Frenchman's eye followed it. "I do," he said, cordially. "Don't
you?"

"Well, it's middlin' good." Uncle William spoke craftily. They were
moving toward it.

"It's great!" said the Frenchman. He swung his eyeglasses to his nose
and gazed at it. They came to a standstill a little distance away.

"The house ain't much to boast on," said Uncle William, modestly.

"The house?" The Frenchman stared at him politely.

Uncle William motioned with his hand. "It's a kind o' ramshackle ol'
thing--no chimbley to speak of--"