alone so. You don't know how 't is. You have somebody to need you.
Harriet needs you--"

"Lord, yes, Harr'et needs me. Don't doubt she needs me this minute--pail
o' water or suthin'." Andrew chuckled gloomily.

"And you hev your chickens, too." Uncle William fixed his glance
placidly on a strutting fowl that had appeared around the corner,
cocking a surprised eye at them. William regarded her thoughtfully.
"When a man's alone, there ain't much he can do for folks," he said
slowly, "except feed Juno night and mornin',--and she catches so many
mice it ain't really wuth while. Now a hen needs to be fed."

"Guess they do," grumbled Andy.

"And a cow," went on Uncle William, "but there--" he checked himself.
"What am I talkin' about? How'd I ever keep a cow? What'd I do with the
milk? I couldn't eat a whole cowful." He sat gazing with far-off eyes at
the glimpse of blue water.

Andy chewed scornfully on a bit of dry grass.

William turned to him suddenly. "We'll go down and draw out the money
to-morrow morning," he said.

Andy chewed anxiously. "I dunno as I can let you have it," he protested.

"Oh, yes, you'll let me. You see I _need_ it, Andy, and I'm goin' to pay
you six per cent. How much do you get at the bank? Not more'n five, do
you?"