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"How long have you been there?"
"Little while, not long."
"Where have you been?"
"I had work to do on the farm," he replied
quickly. "I see you've-changed your hair. It's nice." "Thank you."
"It looks like you have a lot to do here," he said
and walked over to my art materials. My grandfather
had stacked some of my finished paintings against the
wall. Duncan looked at them. "This is all your work?" "Yes."
"It's very good," he said.
"Really?"
He smiled. "Okay. I'm no art expert, but they
look good to me. Have you shown them to your art
teacher?" he asked with a wry smile.
"Not those, but he's seen my work in school."
"Anyone else seen these?"
"No."
"They should be seen by the public. You know,
like getting poems published?"
"All right. You've made your point, big shot." He laughed and walked to the table, sorting
through the cleaning materials.
"I'll start with the windows, inside and out," he
said. "Okay?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Let's get going," he said and started to work. We were both so into it that we barely spoke.
Every once in a while, I glanced over at him and saw
how intently he went at everything and with such
confidence. After doing the windows, he found my
uncle Tyler's tools in the toolshed, and he took the
stove apart and cleaned it carefully. He replaced the
