"Anybody'd think," said my Father, "that this was a Graduation Essay you were making instead of just a simple little word-picture for a Blinded Lady!"
"Word-picture?" said Rosalee. "What I'm trying to make is a Peacock Feather Fan!"
"I wish there were three prizes instead of two!" said my Mother.
"Why?" said my Father.
Carol came and kicked his feet on the door. His hands were full of stones. He wanted a drink of water. All day long when he wasn't sitting under the old Larch Tree with a pencil in his mouth he was carrying stones! And kicking his feet on the door! And asking for a drink of water!
"Whatever in the world," said my Mother, "are you doing with all those stones?"
Carol nodded his head that I could tell.
"He's building something," I said. "Out behind the barn!—I don't know what it is!"
Carol dropped his stones. He took a piece of chalk. He knelt down on the kitchen floor. He wrote big white letters on the floor.
"It's an Ar—Rena," is what he wrote.