Uncle William turned quickly.  “It’s Mr. Curie,” he said, “the one that bought your picters.  And he’s left somebody—­a friend—­down below.  Mebbe you wouldn’t mind stepping down and fetchin’ ’em up.”

“Of course.”  The young man rose, holding out a hand.  “I’m glad to meet you, sir.  I shall be back in a minute.  I’ll bring him right up.”  His step rang quick on the rock outside.

The two old men looked at each other.

Uncle William’s face wore its roundest smile.  “I wouldn’t be s’prised if he stayed quite a spell.”  He brought a chair and planted it in front of the stranger.  “Set down.”

The man sat down, looking around the room.  “It is good to be here,” he said.

Uncle William, with a hand on either knee, surveyed him over his spectacles.  “I saw ’t was you ’fore you landed.”

The man’s face fell a little.  “We wanted to surprise you—­”

“You’ve s’prised him all right.  He hain’t no idea what he’s runnin’ to.”  He looked toward the door.  “I reckon he’ll stay an hour.”

The man crossed one thin leg over another.  “That gives me more time,” he said contentedly.

Uncle William gazed politely.  “Was you wantin’ time?” he asked.

The man smiled.  “I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?” Uncle William’s face held pleasure, but not very much curiosity.

The man nodded.  “I came on purpose.”

“You did?  I thought you come to bring her?” His thumb indicated the beach.

“I wanted to see you, and she wanted to come, so here we are.”

“Here you be,” assented Uncle William.  “And I’m glad to see ye.  He was gettin’ middlin’ hard to hold.”

The other man studied his face.  “How much will you take for your place?” he asked.

Uncle William looked up.  He shook his head slowly.  “I won’t take nuthin’.”

The man smiled.  “I’ll give you five thousand for it.”

“You will?” Uncle William’s glance was mild.  A smile crept into it.  “I wish ’t Andy could hear you say that,” he said; “but I can’t sell.”

“Why not?”

“Where’d I live?”

The stranger appeared to ponder a minute.  “You could keep enough to live on,” he said at last.  “I’d rather have you, in fact.”

“I’ll give you enough to live on,” said Uncle William.  “I like your looks.  I’d like to have you round.”

“That won’t do for me,” said the man.

“’T won’t do for me, either,” said Uncle William.

They confronted each other.  The stranger’s eyes dropped first.  “I’ll give you ten thousand,” he said quietly.

“You will?” Uncle William moistened his lips with his tongue.  “I’ll hev to go tell Andy that,” he said.

“You’ll take it?”

“Lord, no, I couldn’t take it!  Nor twenty thousand; so don’t you go offerin’ it to me.  I should like to tell Andy you was offerin’ it, though.”