Andy bent a little.
“An’ here the lib’ry—and the gallery—”
“The what?” Andy ducked a little toward the plan.
“That’s the gallery—didn’t I tell ye, Andy?”
“No.” Andy’s mouth was open at it.
“It’s for picters, you know, and marble things—kind o’ standing round.”
“Huh!” The mouth closed.
“It ’ll be quite nice, I reckon—when it’s done. I can see he sets store by it—” Uncle William’s finger hovered dubiously about the spot. “An’ this part here—all this wing—is for Sergia and him—Alan—”
“They ain’t here,” said Andy.
“But they’re going to be here sometime,” said Uncle William cheerfully. “It ’ll be quite a fam’ly then.” He gazed at the blue paper fondly. “I do like a fam’ly—seems kind o’ foolish to build a house and not have a fam’ly.”