It had been only a couple of months since the fire and Lucy, her head leaning against the window frame asked, “Do you think I could go back to see my house?”
George was surprised by her question and said, “I believe Father has sent some of his staff over there to see about rebuilding. After all, it is an active tenancy, and he wants it to put it to good use.”
Lucy lowered her eyes and quietly asked, “Was anyone found after the fire?”
George’s sympathy was aroused, and he answered, “Oh, Lucy, the fire was much too intense. I was told there was nothing to recover except for ashes, pieces of metal, and a few crockery pieces. I am so sorry.”
Lucy turned her head and looked out the window, but not before George saw tears appearing in her eyes.
“I would still like to go back to see for myself.”
“I will take you over on my horse sometime soon.”
* * *
Lucy crouched before the foundation of her home. The debris had been cleared away, and there were indications that workmen had started rebuilding, but there was no one working there at the moment. George stood by a large tree and waited silently for her to pay her respects.
Lucy had a stick in her hand, scribbled something in the earth, and then wiped it away with the palm of her hand. After some moments of silence, she stood up and went over to George and asked, “Are your parents going to make me come back to live here after the house is rebuilt?”
George had to laugh. “No, they are going to find new tenants. They want the property to be productive and will need more than you to get what they want.”
She nodded. “Good. I do not want to come back.” Then she took hold of his hand and smiling said, “There are some things I want to show you. It is the surprise I promised you.”
George was relieved she had finished here, as it made him uncomfortable to think about his friend losing her family in such a terrible way.
“Fine. Where do we start?” he asked.
“Over there,” Lucy said, pointing toward the stream.
They walked along the stream’s bank; Lucy with head down examining the stream bed and bank, several times poking with her stick. Finally, she stopped and began digging with her fingers.
“Here, see this?” she asked as she held up some yellow clay.
“What is that?” George asked.
“It is for the colors you want to paint with.”
George was astonished. “What? How am I to paint with that?”
“I do not know. How are paints made?”
“Color materials are mixed with linseed oil, and then the different colors are mixed to make the color you want to use when painting.”
“And where do those colors come from?”
George thought about that. “I have no idea. From the shop, I suspect.”
Lucy laughed. “Yes, but where do they come from before they go to the shop?”
“You know, I have no idea.”
“Why not collect colors from around here and mix them with your linst oil?”
“Linseedoil,” George corrected.
Lucy nodded, and then took George by the hand and led him farther along the stream to an exposed earth bank. There were streaks of dark red, terracotta, and more of a deeper yellow color.
“See. If you were to collect these colors and more along here, you could make your colors. And my nana also showed me some plants that have colors I think you could use.”
