Uncle William nodded at the letter with a genial smile, as if he saw the
girl herself and responded to the wish. He returned the letter with the
blue slip to the envelope and stowed it away in his pocket. He surveyed
the room again, shaking his head. "I couldn't take their money, nohow,"
he said slowly. "I must go and see Andy. He'll help out. He'll be reel
glad to."

He rose and began to set the table, bringing out the smoked herring and
bread and tea and foxberries with lavish hand. He sat down with a look
of satisfaction. Juno, from the red lounge, came across, jumping into
the chair beside him. She rubbed expectantly against him. He fed her
bits of the herring with impartial hand. When the meal was over, he went
to the chimney and took out the loose brick, reaching in behind for the
money. He counted it slowly. "Not near enough," he said, shaking his
head. "I knew there wa'n't. I must go and see Andy."

He washed the dishes and put them away, then he combed his tufts of hair
and tied his neckerchief anew.

He found Andrew outside his house, feeding the hens. They stood in
silence, watching the scramble for bits. "Shoo!" said Andrew, making
a dash for a big cochin-china. "She eats a lot more 'an her share," he
grumbled, shaking out the dish. "Comin' in?"

"I've got a little suthin' to talk over with ye," said William.

"Come out behind the barn," said Andrew.

Seated on a well-worn bench with a glimpse of the bay in the distance,