"She wa'n't wuth it!" Andy spoke with conviction. He dropped a jealous
eye to the _Andrew Halloran_ rising slowly on the tide.

"No, she wa'n't wuth more'n three hunderd, if she was that," admitted
Uncle William. "I'm goin' to take the three hunderd outright and borrow
the rest. I'm goin' to pay you, too, Andy."

Andy's face, in the light of the setting sun, grew almost mellow. He
turned it slowly. "When you goin' to pay me, Willum?"

"To-morrow," answered William, promptly, "or mebbe next day. I reckoned
we'd all go down and see about the boat together."

Andy looked at him helplessly. "Everything seems kind o' turnin'
upside down," he said. He drew a deep breath. "What d'ye s'pose it is,
Willum--about 'em--picters--that makes 'em cost so like the devil?"

Uncle William looked thoughtful. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I've
thought about that, myself. Can't be the paint nor the canvas."

"Cheap as dirt," said Andy.

"Must be the way he does 'em."

"Just a-settin' and a-daubin', and a-settin' and a-daubin'," sneered
Andrew.

"I dunno's I'd say that, Andy," said Uncle William, reprovingly. "He
sweat and fussed a lot."