Andy grinned. “Lively—they was flyin’ round like hens with their heads off—dumpin’ ’em out and scratchin’ ’em under and getting things shipshape.” He grinned again. “I wa ’n’t to home, you know—I’d gone off the Point—to haul a mess for dinner, and Harr’et had to run a mile in the hot sun to yell at me to dump ’em out.” He drew a long breath as he heaved the lobsters overboard and righted himself.
“Now, that ain’t right,” said Uncle William, “making Harr’et run in the hot sun like that—all for them little squirming things,—and ’tain’t reasonable. We ought to know how many lobsters we o’t to eat—much as any fish-warden. Ain’t they our lobsters?” He shoved up his glasses and looked at Andy kindly.
Andy’s eye was on the kettle. “You think they’re most done?” he said.
Uncle William took off the lid and peered in. The steam rose about his big head like a halo and rolled away in light whiffs. Down on the beach they could hear the washing of the little waves as the tide came up. Uncle William’s face looked out of the steam, like a happy moon. “Just about—” he said, “You run and see if Benjy’s anywheres in sight.” He lifted the kettle and Andy got up stiffly and went to the door.
“I don’t see him nowheres,” he said indifferently.
“You can’t see him there, Andy. You got to go round the corner.” Uncle William carried the kettle to the sink and Andy departed, reluctant—When he returned the lobsters were on the middle of the table, red and steaming, with their little white clouds over them. The map had been hung on the wall and the table was scantily set—“There’s one spoon apiece,” said Uncle William cheerfully, “—though I do’ ’no’s we need spoons. I’m going to have a real good washin’ up after dinner—’D you see him, Andy?”
“He’s comin’,” replied Andy—“up the road a piece.”
“He ’ll be right along then,” said Uncle William, “—if he don’t meet somebody—that wants to advise him ’bout his house. I’d come home round by the lots, if I was him, I tell him. It’s further—but he ’d get here quicker. You sure ’t was him?”
“The’ ain’t anybody else got that kind o’ high-stepping walk, has the’.” said Andy scornfully.
“I do’ ’no ’s the’ has,” said Uncle William. “You draw right up, Andy. He ’ll be here any minute now.”