Andrew nodded. “Seventy-five dollars.”
“And I’ve got quite a count of lobsters up to the boardin’-house—”
Andrew’s small eyes squinted knowingly. “Out o’ season?”
Uncle William returned the look benignly. “We didn’t date the ’count—just lumped ’em, so much a catch; saves trouble.”
Andrew chuckled. “I’ve saved trouble that way myself.” He made a rough calculation. “It won’t make a hunderd, all told. How you goin’ to get the rest?”
“Mebbe I shall borrow it,” said Uncle William. He looked serenely at the sky. “Like enough he’ll send a little suthin’,” he added.
“Like enough!” said Andrew.
“He mentioned it,” said Uncle William.
“He’s gone,” said Andrew. He gave a light p-f-f with his lips and screwed up his eyes, seeming to watch a bubble sail away.
Uncle William smiled. “You don’t have faith, Andy,” he said reproachfully. “Folks do do things, a good many times—things that they say they will. You o’t to have faith.”