“Looks good enough—far as I see,” said Andy, “I’ve seen a lot of houses built that way.”
“—So have I,” broke in Bodet. He crushed the paper in his hand. “It’s a seaside cottage,” he said, “—a regular seaside cottage!”
“I do’ ’no’ what you feel that way about it for,” said Andy, “if ’tis a cottage and ’tis built on the sea—right along side—”
Bodet got impatiently to his feet—“Ordway couldn’t see, either. That’s why I fired him—’seaside cottage!’—” He fizzed a little and straightened his garments and shook his legs.
“There, there, Benjy,—don’t you mind. I’m a-thinkin’ about it,” said Uncle William soothingly.
Benjy smiled—the thin, sweet smile that seemed to come of itself from somewhere behind the high, nervous features, when Uncle William’s voice spoke to it, “All right, William, I won’t mind—now I’ve got Ordway off my hands. I thought one time he would drive me crazy—”
“I didn’t know but he would, too,” said Uncle William, “You acted kind o’ queer.”
“Well, I felt kind o’ queer,” responded Bodet dryly. “Now, about Manning—We ’ll go talk things over with him.... He might do—with a little watching.”