“They be kind o’ old,” said Uncle William. He glanced past her, out of the window. “Nice place to set,” he suggested.
She did not look up.
“Guess George Manning’s going out,” said Uncle William.
“Who’s George Manning?” said Celia. She finished another potato, with efficiency, and dropped it into the pan of water beside her.
“George Manning—He’s about the nicest young man on the Island, I guess,” said Uncle William innocently.
A little laugh flitted at the potatoes.
She glanced out of the window and returned to her work.
Uncle William’s look deepened. “He ’d make a dretful good husband for somebody.”
“I don’t believe much in husbands,” she replied. She held the knife in her hand, and she was looking at him with candid, laughing eyes.
Uncle William returned the look reproachfully. “You don’t have no call to say that, Celia!”