“I do’ ’no’ why,” said Uncle William, “They’re nice little folks.”
“Some places you couldn’t send for one that way,” said Manning. “They ’d call it ’contract labor’ and send him back pretty quick where he came from.”
“That’s what I’d do—’pretty quick.’.rdquo; said Andy.
“Now, what makes you talk like that, Andy,” said Uncle William. “You ain’t ever see one.”
“They ’ll work for nothing—and live on dirt,” said Andy glibly.
“I guess you didn’t ever see how they live, did you, Andy?” said Uncle William. His eyes were on something now and they smiled to it. “I do’ ’no’s I could just make you see it—if you wa ’n’t ever there—But they’re about the nicest little houses you ever see—and clean—You feel kind o’ ’fraid to step in ’em, they’re so clean and fixed-up.... I do’ ’no’ ’s I ever feel so big and clutterin’ as I do times ’t I’m in Japan,” he said reflectively. “Seem’s if there ’d have to be a lot done to me ’fore I was pared down fit to live in Japan.... Nice ways, too—bowin’ and ridiculous, like monkeys, maybe,—but doin’ things quicker ’n Jack Ro’binson.”
“They ’ll work for nothin’,” muttered Andy.
Uncle William turned and regarded him over his spectacles—“If anybody wants to do my work for nothin’, I do’ ’no’ why I should hinder ’em,” he said kindly. “They can come on to the Island and do my gardenin’ all they want to. It don’t hurt my feelin’s any to see ’em digging.” He waved his hand out to where the storm drove—“Why we should shove ’em off the edge when they’re just aching to do our work for us, is what I can’t see. I never see the time yet when the’ wa ’n’t work enough to go round.”
“—The’s too much!” said Uncle William with conviction.
“I guess we ’d better be doing a little of it,” laughed Manning. He got up from the table and went toward the other room... and Uncle William’s eye came back from Japan and followed him hopefully.
But the young man passed the kitchen door without a glance. Uncle William sighed and got up from the table. “You make yourself ridiculous talking about foreign folks, Andy—folks ’t you ain’t ever seen,” he said severely. The sound of the hammers came through the open door and Celia’s voice, singing gently to itself.... Outside, the rain roared hoarse, running across the moor and blotting out the sky and the boats tugging at anchor below.