“It ain’t the tottering, Benjy—It’s the hevin’ had your chance—and lost it.... That’s what’s happened to us.” He was looking at him with affectionate eyes, over the big spectacles.
Bodet nodded. “That’s what’s happened to us. And George Manning, I suppose—”
“George never had a chance,” said Uncle William thoughtfully.... “I don’t mean that nobody would ’a’ had him. I guess the’ ain’t a girl on the Island but what’s set her cap for George, one time or another—set it kind o’ modest, you know. But George don’t see ’em. He just goes around looking at the sky and things—kind o’ thinkin’ in his mind—might bump right up against a girl and not know she was there—” Uncle William chuckled. “I’ve talked to him about ’em,” he added conscientiously—“I’ve told him, a good many times, how interestin’ they be—but it don’t seem to do any good.” Uncle William sighed a little.
Bodet stood up, shaking himself. “Did you say there was a letter—?” he suggested.
Uncle William blinked a little and took it from his pocket, regarding it fondly. “You read it,” he said, “whilst I get down the map.”
Andy watched him, a little morosely, as he mounted a chair and reached for the map on its nail—“When you two going to get a girl!” he said.
Uncle William looked down at him with open mouth. “Now that’s an idea!” he said slowly.
“What’s an idea?” asked Andy.
Uncle William’s mouth closed firmly. “Nothin’—I didn’t mean nothin’, I guess. I was just a-thinking.” He chuckled softly. “We’ve got a girl,” he added kindly. “We heard from her yesterday.” He reached again to the map.
“When’s she coming?” demanded Andy.