pride in the words.

"For that?" Andy looked at him for a minute. Then he looked at the house
and the bay and the flaming sky. His left eyelid lowered itself slowly
and he tapped his forehead significantly with one long finger.

Uncle William shook his head. "He's as sensible as you be, Andy--or me."

Andy pondered the statement. A look of craft crept into his eye.
"What'll ye bet he ain't foolin' ye?" he said.

Uncle William returned the look with slow dignity. "I don't speak that
way o' my friends, Andy," he said gently. "I'd a heap rather trust 'em
and get fooled, than not to trust 'em and hev 'em all right."

Andy looked guilty. "When's it comin'?" he said gruffly.

"It's come a'ready," replied Uncle William; "this mornin'. We've been
figgerin' on a new boat all day, off and on. He's goin' to give me five
hunderd to make up for the _Jennie_."

"She wa'n't wuth it!" Andy spoke with conviction. He dropped a jealous
eye to the _Andrew Halloran_ rising slowly on the tide.

"No, she wa'n't wuth more'n three hunderd, if she was that," admitted
Uncle William. "I'm goin' to take the three hunderd outright and borrow
the rest. I'm goin' to pay you, too, Andy."

Andy's face, in the light of the setting sun, grew almost mellow. He
turned it slowly. "When you goin' to pay me, Willum?"

"To-morrow," answered William, promptly, "or mebbe next day. I reckoned
we'd all go down and see about the boat together."

Andy looked at him helplessly. "Everything seems kind o' turnin'
upside down," he said. He drew a deep breath. "What d'ye s'pose it is,
Willum--about 'em--picters--that makes 'em cost so like the devil?"

Uncle William looked thoughtful. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I've
thought about that, myself. Can't be the paint nor the canvas."

"Cheap as dirt," said Andy.

"Must be the way he does 'em."

"Just a-settin' and a-daubin', and a-settin' and a-daubin'," sneered
Andrew.

"I dunno's I'd say that, Andy," said Uncle William, reprovingly. "He
sweat and fussed a lot."

Andy's eye roamed the landscape. "'T ain't reasonable," he said,
jealously. "A thing o't to be wuth more'n a picter of it. There's more
_to_ a thing." He struck the solid ground of fact with relief.

Uncle William's eye rested on him mildly. "Ye can't figger it that way,
Andy. I've tried it. A shark's bigger'n a halibut, but he ain't wuth
much--'cept for manure."

"Chowder!" The call rang down from the little house, clear and full.

Both men