And Mrs. Dana stayed a long time, though after the first week her sojourn was marked by incidents, not hours.
“Seems like the days of the creation,” Peter confided to Twombley. “Let there be light––there was light! Get the Forest to work––and the Forest gets busy! Heard the church is going to be opened––and a school. Queer, Twombley, how her being a woman and the easy sort, too, doesn’t seem to stop her none.”
Twombley shifted in his chair––the two men were sitting in the spring sunshine by Twombley’s door.
“The Government’s behind her!” he muttered confidently. “And, Heathcote, I ain’t monkeying with the Government. Since that Maclin night––anything the Government asks of me, I hold up my hands.”
“Yes, I reckon that’s safest.” Peter was uplifted, but cautious.
“She’s set Peneluna to painting all the houses––yeller,” Twombley rambled on, the smell of fresh paint filling his nostrils. 261 “And you know what Peneluna is when she gets a start. Colour’s mighty satisfying, Peneluna says; but I guess there’s more in it than just colour. The Pointers get touchy about dirt, and creepy insects showing up on the ’tarnal paint that’s slushed everywhere.”
“Mighty queer doings!” Heathcote agreed.
“The women are plumb crazy over this government woman,” Twombley went on, “and the children lap out of her hand. She and Mary-Clare are together early and late. Thick as corn mush.”
Peter drew his chair closer.
“Her and Mary-Clare is writing up the doings of the Forest,” he whispered. “Writing things allas makes me nervous. What’s writ––is fixed.”