ing to find Uncle William," said the artist.

Andy fidgeted a little. He looked off at the water. "I wa'n't findin' no
fault," he said uneasily. "I was just explainin' why I couldn't resk any
more o' my money on him."

"That's all right," said the artist. "I want to see him."

He found Uncle William sunning the kittens at the east of the house. He
looked up with a nod as the artist appeared. "They're doin' fust-rate,"
he said, adjusting the clam-basket a little. "They'll be a credit to
their raisin'. Set down."

The artist seated himself on a rock near by. The sun fell warm on his
back. Across the harbor a little breeze ran rippling. At the foot of
the cliff Andy was making ready to lift anchor. The artist watched him a
minute. "You've wasted a good deal of money on me," he said soberly.

Uncle William looked at him. He dropped an eye to the _Andrew Halloran_.
"He been talkin' to ye?" he asked cheerfully.

"He told me you borrowed of him--"

"Now, don't you mind that a mite. Andy don't. He's proud as Punch to
hev me owe him suthin'. He reminds me of it every day or two. All I mind
about is your frettin' and takin' on so. If you'd jest be easy in your
mind, we'd have a reel comf'tabul time--with the kittens and all." He
replaced one that had sprawled over the edge. "The' 's a lot o' comfort
in doin' for dumb things," he went on cheerfully. "They can't find fault
with the way you fix 'em." He chuckled a little.

The artist smiled. "Look here, Uncle William, you can't fool me any
longer. You're just pining for a boat. Look at that!" He waved his hand
at the water dimpling below.

Uncle William's gaze dwelt on it fondly for a minute.

"And you sit here dawdling over that basket of kittens!" Scorn and
disgust struggled in the artist's voice.

Uncle William laughed out. He stood up. "What is 't you want me to do?"
he asked.

The artist eyed him miserably. "That's the worst of it--I don't know."

"Well, I'll tell ye," said Uncle William. "We'll row down and get the
mail, and after that we'll plan about the boat. I ain't quite so daft as
I look," he said half apologetically. "I've been turnin' it over in my
mind whilst I've been doin' the kittens, and I've 'bout decided what to
do. But fust, we'll get the mail."

XXI

There was a letter for the artist. It contained a check from the
Frenchman. He had bought three of the pictures--the one of Uncle
William's house and the two of the old Bodet place.

"Did