We yakked all that Friday night and didn't get to bed until three. Eight o'clock Saturday morning we were awakened by Gabby who was making weird noises in the unfinished study. When we investigated, she explained that she was trying to hammer quietly. We began to laugh, got into our work clothes, had breakfast with Jake and didn't stop laughing all day.
Sunday, the volunteer slaves started arriving to spend the day. Bacon pulled in with Olga Bleutcher. Then came the friends of exile ... the odd people who live on The Rock and never let it bother them. Eugene K. Norman brought a man with a guitar. Two of the prettiest girls I ever saw in my life drove up with a man wearing a red beard. In their car was a wicker picnic basket the size of a steamer trunk. They were artist friends of Gabby and spent the afternoon painting L*E*N*N*O*X on the RFD mail box.
After lunch, Lennox and I strolled down the hill, across the little valley and up into the rise where his stand of timber was. I looked back at the house and was suddenly struck by a resemblance.
"Jake," I said.
"Yes, Kit?"
"Look at the house from here, will you?"
He looked.
"What does it remind you of?"
"Should it remind me of anything?"
"Yes. That place you showed me out in Islip. Where you were a kid."