The young man lifted his head and made a hollow of his hands—“Waiting for Steve,” he called up.
“He goin’ out with ye?”
The young man nodded and pointed to a figure loping down over the rocks.
The figure joined him and stood by him. The two men were talking and scanning the sky. Uncle William gazed over their heads—out to the clear horizon.... “Best kind o’ weather,” he murmured. He looked a little wistfully at the Jennie rocking below.
Celia came to the door, “You going out today, Mr. Benslow?”
Uncle William shook his head and looked at the sky.
“It’s a good day,” said Celia.
“Best kind o’ day—” assented Uncle William. He looked again at the heavens. Little scallops—rays of clouds, shot athwart it.
“I’d go if I was you,” said Celia.
“I thought mebbe I’d stay and help Benjy—byme-by. George Manning’s going out.” The corner of his eye sought her face.