“There’s folks living there, Jim. Maybe it’s ghosts—like I said.”
“No it ain’t. I smell the paint. And that’s old man Hendricks doing that painting. It wouldn’t be right to holler to him, would it, Azalea?”
“The folks might hear you. It’s queer pa didn’t know folks had moved in.”
“Well, pa ain’t been to town for three weeks, and anyway, he might not come on anybody that would tell him. Lots of rich folks comes to Lee now. They come down there because they think it’s pretty. That don’t seem much of a reason for coming to a place, does it?”
“Well, I reckon that’s why your pa and ma stopped away up on Tennyson mountain, Jim. It ain’t no way convenient to anything—just way off by itself. If it wasn’t that they stopped on account of prettiness, what was it?”
“Pshaw! Pa wouldn’t stop nowhere for prettiness.”
“I’ll bet he would! I’ll just bet he would.”
“I guess I know pa better than you do, Zalie. I’ve known him years, and you’ve known him weeks.”
“It ain’t the length of time you know a person that counts, Jim. It’s the looking in at their hearts and the understanding of them.”
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? Knowing my pa better than I know him!”