The carpenter looked at him with slow, smiling eyes. “‘Tain’t the chimney, then—He kind o’ likes the idea of a chimney—does he?... He didn’t say anything about the idea,” he added, “He just kind o’ fussed around when I tried to shift her—” He looked at the paper in his hand. “Well—I can’t tell—yet. I’ve got to figure on it—I’ll go down now and order my lumber, I guess.” He moved away toward the road and Uncle William got up.
He crossed over to the old chimney and stood looking toward the hill that mounted above it. The sun had disappeared and the dark turf was soft.... Long reaches of turf and the cropping sheep that moved across it in slow shapes. Uncle William drew a deep breath and turned to the man who stood silent beside him—his eyes on the hill. “Does seem like home, don’t it, Benjy?” he said quietly, in the big, deep voice that boomed underneath like the sea.
X
THE young carpenter approached Bodet cautiously with his solution of the roof-line. They had talked it over a dozen times and Bodet had become restlessly impatient.... Ordway might be right, after all.... He looked at different forms of lattice-work and stone foundations and swore softly at a terrace—Ordway’s idea—with morning glories alongside.... Uncle William, any day, at any time of day, was in favor of a new plan altogether. He stood ready to furnish details—like his own house, mebbe, only bigger.... After this suggestion, every time it came up, he went out and sat on the rocks a long while and looked at the water. Andy coming by hailed him. “What you doing?” he called.
“Just a-settin’ here a little,” replied Uncle William.
“Ain’t Benjy to home?” demanded Andy.
“Yes, he’s to home,” admitted William.
Andy looked toward the house.