“There’s some kind of building going on, I see—further up.” He moved the round hand.
“That’s my friend—Benjamin Bodet,” said Uncle William. His head gave a little lift. “He’s going to have nineteen rooms—not countin’ the gal’ry.” He laid his hand affectionately on the blueprint spread on the table beside him.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I see—Seems to be quite a house,” he said affably, “I was talking with the contractor this morning—a man by the name of Manning—a very intelligent man,” he added kindly.
“His name’s Manning,” assented Uncle William.
The man’s eye strayed to the window. “Your friend must have considerable land with his place—I should think?” He spoke casually.
Uncle William sat up a little. “He’s got enough to set his house on,” he said dryly.
The man’s eyes held no rebuff. They dwelt on Uncle William kindly. “I am interested in the region—” he admitted, “I might buy a little—a small piece—if I found something I liked.”
Uncle William looked him over. “I don’t believe you will,” he said, “—not anything to suit you.... I’ve bought most of it myself,” he added.
The stranger looked at him—and then out of the window. “You don’t own all of it—?” He gave a little wave of the round hand at the moor and sky and rocks.
Uncle William nodded, with a pleased smile. “I bought it all—fo’-five years ago,” he said.