By and by Benjy appeared around the corner of the lumber.
“We’re going to have dinner up here,” announced Uncle William. “Celia sent word by Gunnion’s boy she ’d have it here by twelve, sharp.” Uncle William’s face was guileless.
Benjy sat down. “I can’t get it through Marshall’s head—what I want about that well,” he said testily. “I’ll have to see Manning about it.”
“George ’ll fix it for ye all right,” said Uncle William.
“Have the windows come?” asked Bodet.
“Not yet, I reckon—He didn’t say—You’re going to have a nice house, Benjy!” His eyes rested on the rough frame, “It’s getting to look like I thought ’twould—nice and low—kind o’ like an old hen, you know—spreading her wings and settling down.”
Bodet’s face followed his look. “It’s coming out all right. Your George Manning knows his business—knows what he’s about.”
“He’s a nice boy,” said Uncle William. “The’s things about him might be different—might be a little different,” he added cautiously.
“I don’t know what they are. But I shall have a chance to find out, I suppose—before we’re through.”
“Oh, he ’ll do this all right.”