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." For a moment his face lost its calm and I had a glimpse of the agonizing road he was climbing toward adjustment. It shocked me and I was ashamed of my slip. I tried to change the subject. He stopped me. "It's all right, Kitten," he smiled. "You haven't done anything wrong. These things have to be faced. The house does look like the old place in Islip." "You see it?" "I feel it." He was silent for a moment. "It's a funny thing. I spent half my life running away from that clam-shack, and here I am right back in it again." "Any idea when you'll get this place finished?" I asked, still trying to change the subject. This time I succeeded. "Who knows?" Jake said. "There's no rush." "Don't those letters in the paper bother you?" "Hell no!" He laughed. "You've seen Gabby's plans. You know how beautiful the house'll be when we're finished. What's the hurry?" "Your neighbors'd like you to hurry." "Squares!" he grunted. "They're just like the noodnicks on The Rock, Kitten. You find them everywhere. Rush. Rush. Rush. Nobody wants to work for the work's sake. They want it done overnight so they can have the result quick. But it's the work that's the fun. I finally found that out. Nobody's going to hustle me into rushing through the best part." "How long do you expect to take?" "There you go thinking like The Rock again. You mean three months or six months or a year, don't you?" "It couldn't take longer, could it?" "I hope it takes three generations," he said. I didn't have any answer. Sunday night we were the last to leave. It's a point of pride with us to show that we're the Lennoxes' favorite friends. We kissed them goodbye, drove down the hill and started back toward The Rock. We looked up and saw them, silhouetted against the lights of the house, arms around each other, waving madly. We started to laugh again. "Crazy kids," I said. "They're pure gypsy," Robin said. "When the baby comes he'll have to get to work again." "Gabby says they're going to name it Sam if it's a boy." "What if it's a girl?"