Uncle William: The Man Who Was Shif'less Part 21

Uncle William's jaw clicked a little as it came together. He held out a hand. "Will you jest let me look at that a minute?" he said.

He ran his great finger down the page. When it came to the $2000, he pressed it a little with his thumb, as if expecting it to rub off. Then he looked at her, shaking his head. "It's a leetle higher'n I can go,"

he said slowly. "I wa'n't expectin' it would cost so much. You see, the house itself didn't cost more'n three hunderd, all told, and I thought a picter of it wouldn't cost more'n five or six."

"Five or six hundred?" Her eyes laughed.

Uncle William shook his head guiltily. "Not more'n five or six dollars,"

he said. "I reckon mebbe I _did_ put it a leetle low." A smile had bloomed again in his face. "If he can pay the price, he'll have to have it, I reckon--for all o' me."

"Yes, he can pay it. He is very rich, and he cares for pictures. He has hundreds. He buys them everywhere--in Paris, London, St. Petersburg, Italy--It only depends on whether he likes--"

The man had come into view again and was studying the picture, dipping toward it in little sidewise flights. Uncle William watched the pantomime jealously. "How'd you come to know him?" he asked.

"He knew my mother. He had known her from a girl. I think he loved her,"

she said quietly, her eyes on the man. "He was on the legation at St.

Petersburg--See! He _does_ like them!" She had leaned forward.

Uncle William glanced up.

The man was standing a little removed from the painting, his arms folded, his head thrown back, oblivious to the crowd.

She rose quickly. "I am going to speak to him," she said. "Wait here for me." She pa.s.sed into the changing throng that filled the room beyond.

Uncle William waited patiently, his eyes studying the swift kaleidoscope of the doorway. When she reappeared in it, her face was alight with color. "Come." She held out her hand. "I want you to meet him. He likes them--oh, very much!" She pressed her hands together lightly. "I think he will buy them--two, at least."

Uncle William got to his feet. "I s'pose ye told him about Alan and about my place."

She stopped short, looking at him reproachfully. "Not a word," she said--"not a single word!"

Uncle William's countenance fell. "Wa'n't that what you went out for?"

"No; and you must not mention it. I only told him that you liked them."

"Can't I even say that's my house out there?" He waved his hand.

"Never!" It was energetic. "You would spoil it all."

"Will it hurt it any to be my house?" he asked, a little sore.

"You know it is not that." She laid her hand on his arm affectionately.

"We shall tell him all about it some day; but now, just now, while he is making up his mind, it would distract him. He wants to look at them as art."

Uncle William sighed gently. "Well, I'll do my best, but it's goin'

agen' nature not to bust right out with it." They pa.s.sed into the larger room. On the opposite side the man was standing, his eyegla.s.ses on his nose, looking expectantly toward the door.

When he saw them, he smiled and moved forward with suave grace.

XVIII

They met midway in the room. The two tall men stood facing each other, overtopping the crowd. The Frenchman held out his hand. "I am glad to meet you," he said.

Uncle William took the thin hand in his hearty one. "I am glad to meet _you_," he responded. "Sergia's been tellin' me about you. She said you liked the picter over yonder." Uncle William's thumb described the arc of a circle.

The Frenchman's eye followed it. "I do," he said, cordially. "Don't you?"

"Well, it's middlin' good." Uncle William spoke craftily. They were moving toward it.

"It's great!" said the Frenchman. He swung his eyegla.s.ses to his nose and gazed at it. They came to a standstill a little distance away.

"The house ain't much to boast on," said Uncle William, modestly.

"The house?" The Frenchman stared at him politely.

Uncle William motioned with his hand. "It's a kind o' ramshackle ol'

thing--no chimbley to speak of--"

The man's face cleared. "Oh, the house--a mere hut!" He dismissed it with a wave.

Uncle William's face wore a subdued look. "It might be comf'tabul inside," he hazarded after a silence.

The Frenchman stared again. "Comfortable? Oh, without doubt." He granted the point in pa.s.sing. "But the color in the rocks--do you see?--and the clear light and the sky--you see how it lifts itself!" His long finger made swift stabs here and there at the canvas. A little crowd had gathered near.

Uncle William pushed his spectacles farther up on the tufts. His face glowed. "The sky is all right," he said, "if ye know how to take it; but ye wouldn't trust a sky like that, would ye?"

The Frenchman turned to him, blinking a little. His gla.s.ses had slipped from his nose. They hung dangling from the end of the long chain. "Trust it?" he said vaguely. "It's the real thing!"

Uncle William's face a.s.sumed an air of explanation. "It's good as far as it goes. The' ain't anything the matter with it--not anything you can lay your finger on--not till you get over there, a little east by sou'east. Don't you see anything the matter over there?" He asked the question with cordial interest.

The Frenchman held the eyegla.s.s chain in his fingers. He swung the gla.s.ses to his nose and stared at the spot indicated.

Uncle William regarded him hopefully.

The gla.s.ses dropped. He faced about, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I don't see it." He spoke in polite deprecation. "It seems to me very nearly perfect." He faced it again. "I can breathe that air."

"So can I," said Uncle William. "So can I."

They stood looking at it in silence. "It'll be fo'-five hours before it strikes," said Uncle William, thoughtfully.

"Before it--" The Frenchman had half turned. The rapt look in his face wrinkled a little.

"Before it strikes," repeated Uncle William. "That cloud I p'inted out to you means business."

The Frenchman looked again. The wrinkles crept to the corners of his eyes. He turned them on Uncle William. "I see. You were speaking of the weather?"

"Wa'n't you?" demanded Uncle William.