When I entered, it was late; night had fallen.
Adonie must have come in late, too, for she was slouched in a chair with
her legs stretched out before her and her ankles crossed. A carton of
apple juice was on the table near her unopened accounts book.
Olive stood on an old scratched chair at the stove. In the dim light from
the lantern Adonie had retrieved last week from the barn Olive's shadow
made wild sketches upon the oily ecru wall. The paint in here was
disgusting. I halted in the doorway, frowning.
Adonie looked up from her boots which she seemed to be studying. "Olive's offered to make us dinner."