Uncle William regarded him thoughtfully. “You ought to have George Manning to help you about your house, Benjy. He could do it for you—nice.”
“Manning?” Bodet looked at him with lifted eyebrows—“You mean that boy—?”
“He ain’t a boy exactly, Benjy. He looks kind o’ young—not having any whiskers, and chewing a piece of grass the way he does when he’s thinking. But he’s old enough. He’s built a good many houses on the Island, fust and last—much as eighteen or twenty, I should think, counting barns—and hen-coops and fish-houses.”
Bodet smiled. “My house isn’t a hencoop, William.”
“I know, Benjy—it’s going to be a nice house—when you get it started,” said William.
Bodet sighed and threw out an impatient hand.
Uncle William looked at him sympathetically. “Does bother ye a good deal, don’t it?—You might talk with George about it,” he added hopefully, “‘Twon’t hurt any to talk to him—he’s chuck full of ideas. He’s about the best man we’ve got on the Island, I guess,” he added slowly. “The’ ain’t but one thing wrong about George.”
“What’s wrong with him!” asked Bodet with a little, skeptical smile.
Bodet laughed out. “Neither are you, William.”
“No, I ain’t married and you ain’t married. But that’s different—we’re old men.”
“It ain’t the tottering, Benjy—It’s the hevin’ had your chance—and lost it.... That’s what’s happened to us.” He was looking at him with affectionate eyes, over the big spectacles.
Bodet nodded. “That’s what’s happened to us. And George Manning, I suppose—”
“George never had a chance,” said Uncle William thoughtfully.... “I don’t mean that nobody would ’a’ had him. I guess the’ ain’t a girl on the Island but what’s set her cap for George, one time or another—set it kind o’ modest, you know. But George don’t see ’em. He just goes around looking at the sky and things—kind o’ thinkin’ in his mind—might bump right up against a girl and not know she was there—” Uncle William chuckled. “I’ve talked to him about ’em,” he added conscientiously—“I’ve told him, a good many times, how interestin’ they be—but it don’t seem to do any good.” Uncle William sighed a little.
Bodet stood up, shaking himself. “Did you say there was a letter—?” he suggested.
Uncle William blinked a little and took it from his pocket, regarding it fondly. “You read it,” he said, “whilst I get down the map.”