ill to see that Morris chair go
back--you liked it so. We did a lot of honeymoonin' in that chair."

They were well out of San Leandro, walking through a region of tiny
holdings--"farmlets," Billy called them; and Saxon got out her ukulele
to cheer him with a song.

First, it was "Treat my daughter kind-i-ly," and then she swung into
old-fashioned darky camp-meeting hymns, beginning with:

"Oh! de Judgmen' Day am rollin' roan', Rollin', yes, a-rollin', I hear
the trumpets' awful soun', Rollin', yes, a-rollin'."

A big touring car, dashing past, threw a dusty pause in her singing, and
Saxon delivered herself of her latest wisdom.

"Now, Billy, remember we're not going to take up with the first piece of
land we see. We've got to go into this with our eyes open--"

"An' they ain't open yet," he agreed.

"And we've got to get them open. ''Tis them that looks that finds.'
There's lots of time to learn things. We don't care if it takes months
and months. We're footloose. A good start is better than a dozen bad
ones. We've got to talk and find out. We'll talk with everybody we meet.
Ask questions. Ask everybody. It's the only way to find out."

"I ain't much of a hand at askin' questions," Billy demurred.

"Then I'll ask," she cried. "We've got to win out at this game, and
the way is to know. Look at all these Portuguese. Where are all the
Americans? They owned the land first, after the Mexicans. What made the
Americans clear out? How do the Portuguese make it go? Don't you see?
We've got to ask millions of questions."

She strummed a few chords, and then her clear sweet voice rang out
gaily:

"I's g'wine back to Dixie, I's g'wine back to Dixie, I's g'wine where de
orange blossoms grow, For I hear de chillun callin', I see de sad tears
fallin'--My heart's turned back to Dixie, An' I mus'go."

She broke off to exclaim: "Oh! What a lovely place! See that arbor--just
covered with grapes!"

Again and again she was attracted by the small places they passed. Now
it was: "Look at the flowers!" or: "My! those vegetables!" or: "See!
They've got a cow!"

Men--Americans--driving along in buggies or runabouts looked at Saxon
and Billy curiously. This Saxon could brook far easier than could Billy,
who would mutter and grumble deep in his throat.

Beside the road they came upon a lineman eating his lunch.

"Stop and talk," Saxon whispered.

"Aw, what's the good? He's a lineman. What'd he know about farmin'?"

"You neve