Uncle William was looking at the fish-warden, a kindly smile on his face.
The warden ignored it. “I’ll trouble you for that candle,” he said, “I’ll take a look myself.”
Uncle William handed it to him and he held it far into the cupboard, peering at the top and sides and floor. He withdrew it, blowing it out with a quick puff—“You’ve got off this time,” he said, “but that smell ought to convict you—if there was any justice in law.”
“Well, I do’ ’no ’s there is,” said Uncle William, “do you? It does smell good.” He sniffed a little. “‘Seems’s if they ought to put that in the schedule they send us, ’Any lobsters, claws or smells found in the possession of any person whatsoever.’.rdquo; Uncle William marked off the count on his fingers with kindly eye and beamed. “You could fine me fifty dollars, or some such matter as that—for that cupboard, I should think.” The eyes behind the big spectacles twinkled with good fellowship.
The fish-warden looked at him. Then he looked at the empty cupboard and at Andy and the mouse-trap—He smiled a little. “You might speak to them about the law yourself,” he said. “I can testify it ought to be changed.”
“We ’d like to speak to ’em,” said Uncle William, “—about a good many things. About this lobster-law, now,” He motioned toward the mouse-trap, “We don’t want any such law. I ain’t a canning factory. We ain’t pirates, nor lawbreakers here—”
The young man smiled a little.
“Not without we have to be,” said Uncle William quickly. “They’re our lobsters, and mostly we know what’s good for ’em—and what’s good for us, and if we want to ketch a few and eat, now and then, we don’t need no inspector.... Not but what we’re always glad to see you,” he said. He held out his hand kindly. “I know—by the looks of your wife and babies—you’re a good man.”
The young man took the big hand, smiling a little. “I’m glad to have met you, Mr. Benslow,” he said slowly. He looked at him a minute, as if something in the big face puzzled him. Then he turned away with a little shake of his head. “I shouldn’t want to meet you regularly—not if I’m going to keep on being fish-warden,” he said.
Uncle William chuckled a little. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Mason—there’s lots of jobs for them that needs ’em—some of ’em right and some of ’em wrong—and I reckon the main thing is to do what we hev to do as well as we can and not worry.”