is somber face appeared above the edge of
the wharf. Uncle William looked down on it, smiling. "I've got good news
for ye, Andy."

"Huh?" Andy paused half way.

Uncle William nodded. "You'll be reel tickled about it. I'm goin' to
have a new boat--right off."

"Ye be?" Andy's mouth remained open. It took in the sky and the bay and
Uncle William's smile.

"Right off. I knew ye'd be glad."

The mouth came together. "Where you goin' to get it?"

"He's got some money." Uncle William nodded toward the cliff.

Andy looked. "He's poor as poverty. He's said so--times enough."

Uncle William smiled. "He's had luck--quite a run o' luck. He's been
sellin' picters--three-four on 'em."

"What's picters!" said Andrew, scornfully. He scrambled on to the wharf
with a backward glance at the _Andrew Halloran_. "You won't buy no boat
off o' picters, Willum. A boat costs three hunderd dollars--a good one."

"I was cal'atin' to pay five hunderd," said Uncle William.

"You was?" Andy wheeled about. "You wont' get it out o' him!" He jerked
a thumb at the cliff.

Uncle William chuckled. "Now, ye've made a mistake, Andy. He's got that
much and he's got more." The gentle triumph in Uncle William's tone
diffused itself over the landscape.

Andy took it in slowly. "How much?" he asked at last.

"Six-seven thousand," said Uncle William.

"What!" Andy's feet scuffed a little. "'T ain't reasonable," he said
feebly.

"No, 't ain't reasonable." Uncle William spoke gently. "I was a good
deal s'prised myself, Andy, when I found how high they come--picters. Ye
can't own a gre't many of 'em--not at one time."

"Don't want to," said Andy, caustically.

"No, you wouldn't take much comfort in 'em," said William. "_'T is_
cur'us 't anybody should want a picter o' my old hut up there 'nough to
pay--how much d'ye s'pose they did pay for it, Andy?"

Andy glanced at it contemptuously. It glowed in the light of the late
sun, warm and radiant. "'T ain't wuth a hunderd," he said.

Uncle William's face fell a little. "Well, I wouldn't say jest that,
Andy.

"Roof leaks," said Andrew.

"A leetle," admitted Uncle William, "over 'n the southeast corner,
She's weather-tight all but that." He gazed at the little structure
affectionately. The sun flamed at the windows, turning them to gold.
The artist's face appeared at one of them, beckoning and smiling. Uncle
William turned to Andy. "A man give him two thousand for it," he said.
There was sheer