's
movin' up and down,--" he motioned toward the harbor,--"and the boats
are comin' in at night, settlin' down like birds, and the lights."
He looked affectionately at the water. "It's all there jest the same
whether I owe anybody or not. And the rocks don't budge much--" He laid
his big brown hand on the warm surface beside him, smoothing it in slow
content.

The artist looked at him, smiling a little wistfully. "It sounds all
very well to talk about," he said, "but the world would go to rack and
ruin if everybody felt that way."

"I ust to think so," said Uncle William, placidly. "I ust to lie awake
nights worryin' about it. But late years I've give it up. Seems to jog
along jest about the same as when I was worryin'--and _I_ take a heap
sight more comfort. Seems kind o' ridiculous, don't it, when the Lord's
made a world as good as this one, not to enjoy it some?"

"Don't you feel any responsibility toward society?" asked the artist,
curiously.

Uncle William shook his head with a slow smile. "I don't believe I do.
I ust to. Lord, yes! I ust to think about folks that was hungry till my
stummick clean caved in. I ust to eat my dinner like it was sawdust, for
fear I'd get a little comfort out of it, while somebody somewheres was
starvin'--little childern, like enough. That was al'ays the hardest part
of it--little childern. I ust to think some of foundin' a'sylum up here
on the rocks--sailin' round the world and pickin' up a boat-load and
then bringin' 'em up here and turnin' 'em loose on the rocks, givin' 'em
all they could stuff to eat. And then one night, when I was cal'atin'
and figgerin' on it, I saw that I couldn't get half of 'em into my boat,
nor a quarter, nor a tenth--jest a little corner of 'em. And then it
come over me, all of a sudden, what a big job I'd tackled, and I jest
turned it over to the Lord, then an there. And all the next day I
kep' kind o' thinkin' about it out here on the rocks--how he'd took a
thousand year--mebbe 't was more; a good long spell, they say--to get
the rocks ready for folks to live on--jest the rocks! And like enough he
knew what he was plannin' to do, and didn't expect me to finish it all
up for him in fo'-five years. Since then I've been leavin' it to him
more--takin' a hand when I could, but payin' more attention to livin'. I
sort o' reckon that's what he made us for--to live. The' 's a good deal
o' fin in it if you go at it right."

"That's a great idea, Uncle William,"