Uncle William drew out the blue paper and looked at it fondly. “I’m helping Benjy decide what he wants—from time to time.” He spread out the paper on his knee.
Andy turned his back and looked out to sea—sideways.
“Want to see ’em, Andy?” asked Uncle William.
“I don’t care.”
“It’s a good place to see ’em.” Uncle William glanced at the flat rock. He laid down the blue paper and smoothed the curly edges with big, careful fingers.
“You get two-three stones, Andy—to anchor ’em down—”
Andy got up with an indifferent air and wandered off, gathering in a handful of small rocks.
“That’s good—put one of ’em here—and one here—and here. That’s good!” Uncle William leaned back and looked at it with simple delight.
Andy’s air was detached.
Uncle William glanced at him. His gaze softened. “This is Benjy’s room,” he said. His finger followed a white dotted line on the paper.