Manning turned a slow eye on him. “How ’d he know he could get men—here on the Island—and keep ’em!” he demanded.
“Well, he didn’t know it, George.” Uncle William chuckled a little. “I reckon he ’d ’a’ learned quite a few things about the Island—if he ’d ’a’ kep’ on it.”
“I reckon he would,” said the man with a slow smile. “I can’t tell Bodet what it ’ll cost—What if a barge-load of lumber should be held up, getting here?—Might have to wait weeks—Suppose I can’t get anybody to board ’em—”
“Andy ’ll board ’em,” said Uncle William.
“Umph,” said the man.
“An’ Andy’s wife—you want to put her in. She might up an’ say she wouldn’t, any day?”
Manning shook his head. “I can’t sign any contract, and I can’t tell him what it will cost—not within a good many dollars—a house like that—but if he wants me to build it, I’ll take it and do my best for him.”
“The’s a good many things might happen,” allowed Uncle William, turning it slowly in his mind. “The Widow Deman’s well might go dry and then where ’d you be, with your mortar and plaster and cement, if that well run dry?”
The man looked at him.
“You ’d want to put the well in,” Uncle William suggested, “if you should make the contract—”