“Come in, Clarice,” Lella said. “This is Martin.”
“I’ve seen Martin around,” Clarice said. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Martin said. He was sitting on a crate with his bent legs in a “V,” arms resting on his knees. He was holding a hammer in his hand. It was a fine hammer that Dr. M owned, barely used. He had asked for something to hang onto, not wanting just to sit there.
Lella asked him to wear his hat after she had lightly rendered the geometry of his bare head. He wore his checked shirt and twill work pants, held up with suspenders. A pair of gloves hung out of one of his pockets; his boots were brown and worn.
Clarice stood behind Lella, admiring her skill. “I don’t say you’re getting better, because you were already good, but you’re working faster.”
“I only have an hour,” Lella said, “and I’m do
