"I wonder now, are you right?" he exclaimed.
"I am," Uncle Matthew replied. "The best stories in the world have women in them, and love-making! I never could take any interest in Robinson Crusoe because he hadn't got a girl on that island with him, and I thought to myself many's a time, it was a queer mistake not to make Friday a woman. He could have fallen in love with her then!"
Uncle William said up sharply. "Aye, and had a wheen of black babies!" he said. "Man, dear, Matthew, think what you're saying! What sort of romance would there be in the like of that? I never read much, as you know, but I always had a great fancy for Robinson Crusoe. The way that man turned to and did things for himself ... I tell you my heart warmed to him. I like your story, John, women or no women. Sure, love isn't the only thing that men make!..."
"It's the most important," said Uncle Matthew.
"And why shouldn't a story be written about any other thing nor a lot of love?" Uncle William continued, ignoring the interruption. "I daresay you'll get a mint of money for that story, John. I've heard tell that some of these writers gets big pay for their stories. Pounds and pounds!"
John crinkled his manuscript in his hand and regarded it with a modest look. "I don't suppose I'll get much for the first one," he said. "In fact, if they'll print it, I'll be willing to let them have it for nothing ... just for the satisfaction!"
"That would be a foolish thing to do," Uncle William retorted. "Sure, if it's worth printing, it's worth paying for. That's the way I look at it, anyhow!"
"I daresay I'll make more, when I know the way of it better!" John answered. "What paper will I send it to, do you think?"
"Send it to the best one," said Uncle William.
Mrs. MacDermott took a plate of toast from the fender where it had been put to keep warm. "Send it to the one that pays the most," she suggested.