Uncle William turned and regarded him over his spectacles—“If anybody wants to do my work for nothin’, I do’ ’no’ why I should hinder ’em,” he said kindly. “They can come on to the Island and do my gardenin’ all they want to. It don’t hurt my feelin’s any to see ’em digging.” He waved his hand out to where the storm drove—“Why we should shove ’em off the edge when they’re just aching to do our work for us, is what I can’t see. I never see the time yet when the’ wa ’n’t work enough to go round.”
Andy shifted uneasily in his chair.
“—The’s too much!” said Uncle William with conviction.
“I guess we ’d better be doing a little of it,” laughed Manning. He got up from the table and went toward the other room... and Uncle William’s eye came back from Japan and followed him hopefully.
But the young man passed the kitchen door without a glance. Uncle William sighed and got up from the table. “You make yourself ridiculous talking about foreign folks, Andy—folks ’t you ain’t ever seen,” he said severely. The sound of the hammers came through the open door and Celia’s voice, singing gently to itself.... Outside, the rain roared hoarse, running across the moor and blotting out the sky and the boats tugging at anchor below.
XXVII
IN March Jimmu Yoshitomo arrived and, soon after him, a cablegram from Alan and Sergia. “Hurray!” Uncle William leaned out of the window, waving it, “It’s come, Benjy—Didn’t I tell you it ’d come!” Bodet hurried up and took it from him, reading it aloud, Uncle William leaning over him—
“Wilhelmina Bodet Woodworth and Mother both doing well.”