Uncle William took up another brick.
Andy seated himself on a rock. He had done a good day’s work. His conscience was clear; and then William worked better when Andy was around, and Andy took pride in it. “Where’d you get your bricks?” he asked.
Uncle William looked at the one in his hand. “I wheeled them over from the Bodet cellar-place. The’ ’s quite a pile left there yet.”
“They all good?”
“Putty good.” Uncle William was working thoughtfully. “We’ve set by them bricks a good many times, Andy.”
“Yep.”
“You remember the things she used to give us to eat?”
Andy swung about. “Who give us?”
“Old Mis’ Bodet.”
Andy’s eye lighted. “So she did. I’d forgot all about ’em.”