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The tulip beds on the lawns had been re-filled for summer, a touch of bonfire smoke hung in the air, Eppleby Holcomb was mending his picket gate, and over many magic thresholds of the cool walks were lintels of the boughs.
"'No such thing, s'she, milkin' away like mad for fear he'd use force; 'I ain't carried a drop o' milk here. I've drove it, she says. "Timothy groaned. "'Milkin' in the church, he says. "'No, sir, says Amanda, back at him; 'I'm outside on the sod, an' you know it. "An' then my hopes sort o' riz, because I thought I heard Eppleby Holcomb laugh soft sort of a half-an'-half chuckle.
Dear Doctor June, pastor emeritus of Friendship, since he was so identified with all the village interests that not many could tell from what church he had retired. Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss, and Eppleby Holcomb, and the "Other" Holcombs; Mis' Doctor Helman, the Gekerjecks, who "kept the drug store," and scented the world with musk and essences.
"Yes," Mis' Holcomb assented half-heartedly, "I'll help you. I ain't nobody much in family, now Abigail's done what she has. They's only Eppleby, an' he won't be home Thanksg'vin this year. So I ain't nothin' else to do."
He said that was no differ'nt than advertisin' the printin'-offices that way, like they do. But it was that move made Abel Halsey him an' Timothy Toplady and Eppleby Holcomb an' Postmaster Sykes, the three elders, set to to build a church. An' they done it too. An' to them four I declare it seemed like the buildin' was a body waitin' for its soul to be born.
"'So it can't so it can't, says the postmaster, apologetic, knowin' he was in politics an' that the brethren was watchin' him, cat to mouse, for slips. "'I s'pose that's so, says Eppleby, doubtful. But he's one o' them that sort o' ducks under situations to see if they're alike on both sides, an' if they ain't, he up an' questions 'em. Timothy, though, he was differ'nt.
Silas Sykes, he'd took in Foolish Henzie an' another old man for his. An' Eppleby Holcomb, in his frenzy he'd took in five, an' Mame was near a lunatic with havin' 'em to do for. An' all three men bein' at the head o' the burned buildin', they danced 'round lively makin' provision, an' they sent telegrams, wild an' reckless, without countin' the words.
"So Eb he went off, takin' Elspie to my house, an' I went on up the hill, where Timothy Toplady and Silas Sykes an' Eppleby was rushin' round, wild an' sudden, herdin' the inmates here an' there, vague an' energetic. I didn't do much better, an' I done worse too, because I burned my left wrist, long an' deep.
'I guess the church's been dedicated. I feel like we'd heard the big wind an' I guess, mebbe, the Pentecostal tongues. "An' Timothy he's an awful tender-hearted man in spite o' bein' so notional Timothy just went on in with the milk, without sayin' anything. An' Eppleby side of him.
An' Abel, he just set there to the organ, gentlin' 'round soft on the keys so it made me think o' God movin' on the face o' the waters. An' movin' on the face of everything else too, dedicated or not. It was like we'd felt the big wind, same as Eppleby said. An' somethin' in it kind o' hid, secret an' holy." Two weeks before Christmas Friendship was thrown into a state of holiday delight. Mrs.
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