"You kep' him a good deal, off and on. He must 'a' e't considerable,"
said Andrew. "And now he's up and lost your boat for you." He glanced
complacently at the _Andrew Halloran_ swinging at anchor. "You'll never
see _her_ again," he said. He gave a final toss to the net.

"Mebbe not," said Uncle William. "Mebbe not." His eyes were on the
horizon, where the gray-blue haze lingered lightly. The blue sky dipped
to meet it. It melted in sunlight. Uncle William's eyes returned to his
nets.

"How you going to get along 'bout a bout?" asked Andrew, carelessly.

Uncle William paused. He looked up to the clear sky. "I shouldn't need
her much more this fall, anyways," he said. "An' come spring, I'll get
another. I've been needin' a new boat a good while."

Andrew grunted. He glanced a little jealously at the _Andrew Halloran_.
"Got the money?" he asked.

"Well, not _got_ it, so to speak," said Uncle William, "but I reckon I
shall have it when the time comes."

Andrew's face lightened a little. "What you countin' on?" he said.

Uncle William considered. "There's the fish. Gunnion hain't settled with
me yet for my fish."

Andrew nodded. "Seventy-five dollars."

"And I've got quite a count of lobsters up to the boardin'-house--"