ladder grumbling.

"Nice place to see," suggested Uncle William.

Andy peered down the chimney hole. "You will have to take off the top
row all around," he said resentfully.

"Ye think so, do ye? I kind o' thought so myself. They seemed sort o'
tottery. But I thought mebbe they'd hold. Sit down, Andy, sit down." He
pushed the pail of mortar a little to one side to make room.

Andy edged away. "Can't stop," he said. He was searching with his foot
for the ladder.

"What you going to do?" demanded Uncle William.

Andy glanced at the sky. "I'm going to take in the _Andrew Halloran_."
He was already on his way down the ladder.

Uncle William pursued him, peering over. "You'll have to have me to help
ye, Andy. Can't you jest wait till to-morrow--till I get my chimbley
done?"

"You've been a month now," said Andy. He was glowering at the bay and
the little boat bobbing below.

"I know it, Andy, I know it." Uncle William was descending the ladder
with slow care. "But I don't want my mortar to freeze, and I'm kind o'
'fraid of its comin' off cold again to-night. I was jest goin' to begin
to hurry up. I was goin' to begin to-day."

"I can get along without you," said Andrew, doggedly.

"Why, no, you can't, Andy. How you goin' to haul her up?" Uncle William
spoke reproachfully.

Andy moved away. "I can do it, I guess." He was mumbling it to his
teeth. "I don't need anybody's help."

With a sigh and a look of affection at the platform and the pail and the
blue sky above, Uncle William followed him down the rocky path.

They worked busily all the morning, towing in the _Andrew Halloran_,
cleaning her up and stowing away tackle, making her ready for the
winter.

In the afternoon Uncle William mounted the roof again. His face, under
its vast calm, wore a look of resolve. He looked thoughtfully down the
chimney hole. Then he sat down on the platform and took up his trowel.
He balanced it on his palm and looked at the pile of bricks. His gaze
wandered to the sky. It swept the bay and came back across the moors.
A look of soft happiness filled it; the thin edges of resolve melted
before it. "Best kind of weather," murmured Uncle William, "best kind--"
His eye fell on the pile of bricks and he took up one, looking at it
affectionately. He laid it in place and patted down the mortar, rumbling
to himself.

When Andy came by, half an hour later, three bricks were in place. Uncle
William nodded to him affably. "Where goi