een
gleam had crept into his eye.

Uncle William leaned over, looking down at him reproachfully. "Now, what
makes you say that, Andy? He don't hev no more call to be dead'n we do.
We was both fond of him."

Andy stirred uneasily. "I liked him well enough, but it ain't any use
talkin' about folks that's moved away, or dead."

"Do you feel that way, Andy? Now I don't feel so." Uncle William's gaze
was following a floating cloud. "I feel as if they was kind o' near us;
not touching close, but round somewheres. Now, I wouldn't really say
Benjy Bodet was in that cloud--"

Andy stared at it suspiciously.

"He ain't really there, but it makes me feel the way he did. I used to
get up kind o' light in the mornin', 'cause I was goin' to see Benjy.
The' wa'n't ever anybody I was so fond of, except Jennie--and you,
mebbe."

Andy's gaze was looking out to sea. "You was mighty thick with that
painter chap," he said gruffly.

"That wa'n't the same,"--Uncle William spoke thoughtfully,--"not quite
the same."

The gloom in Andy's face lifted.

"I've thought about that a good many times," went on Uncle William.
"It's cur'us. You get to know folks that's a good deal nicer than your
own folks that you was born and brought up and have lived and quarreled
with,--and you get to know 'em a good deal better some ways--but they
ain't the same as your own."

Andy's face had grown almost mild. "I guess that's right," he said. "Now
there's Harr'et--I've lived with Harr'et a good many year."

Uncle William nodded. "She come from Digby way, didn't she?"

"Northeast o' Digby. And some days I feel as if I wa'n't even acquainted
with her."

Uncle William chuckled.

Andy glanced at the sun. "I must be gettin' home. It's supper-time." His
gaze sought the ridge-pole. The few rows of bricks set above its line
gleamed red and white in the sun. "You won't get that done to-night."
The tone was not acrid. It was almost sympathetic--for Andy.

Uncle William glanced at it placidly. "I reckon I shall. There's a moon,
you know. And this is a pleasant place to set. It ought to be quite nice
up here by moonlight."

He set and watched Andy's figure down the road. Then he took up the
trowel once more, whistling. The floating cloud had sailed to the
horizon. It grew rosy red and opened softly, spreading in little flames.
The glow of color spread from north to south. A breeze had sprung up and
ruffled the bay. Uncle William glanced at it and fell to