said, cradling Sally in one arm while he
held her little clawlike hand in his, feeling its fever.

"We haven't got wings, to fly there," Grandma objected.

Mrs. King looked thoughtfully around the wretched shelter. A few
clothes hung from corner posts; a few tin dishes were piled in a
box cupboard. The children were clean as children could be in
such a place. But the visitor's glance lingered longest on the
clock.

"Your clock and mine are like as two peas," she observed. "Forty
years ago I got mine, on my wedding day."

"Mine was a wedding present, too. And my feather beds that I had
to let go at fifty cents apiece. . . ." Grandma quavered.

"These are queer times." Mrs. King shook her head. "I do wish I
had the means to lend a hand like a real neighbor. There's this,
though--my mister took in a big old auto on a debt, and he'll
leave you have it for what the debt was--fifteen dollars, seems
like."

"You reckon he will?" Grandpa demanded.

"He better!" said Mrs. King.

"Even fifteen dollars won't leave us scarcely enough to eat on,"
Grandpa muttered.

"But we've got to get to a place where there's work," Daddy
reminded him.

They went to see the car, and found it a big, strong old Reo,
with fairly good tires. So they bought it.

Grandma had one piece of jewelry left, besides her wide gold
wedding ring--a cameo brooch. She traded it for a nanny goat.
On the ever useful dump the men found a wrecked trailer and they
mended it so that it would hold the goat, which the children
named Carrie. Later, Grandma thought, they might get some laying
hens, too.

Two days after the Big Storm, they set out for the Texas
cottonfields. Mrs. King stuck a big box of lunch into the car,
and an old tent which she said she couldn't use.

"I hope I'll be forgiven for never paying heed to fruit
tramps--fruit workers--before," she said soberly. "From now on I
aim to. Though I shan't find none like you-all, with a Seth
Thomas clock and suchlike."

[Illustration: Off to the cotton fields]

After the truck ride from Jersey even a fifteen-dollar automobile
was luxury, with its roomy seats and two folding seats that let
down between.

Grandma joked, in her tart way, "I never looked to be touring the
country in my own auto!"

Rose-Ellen jiggled in the back seat. "Peekaneeka, Gramma!" she
said.

When it rained, the children scurried to fasten the side curtains
and then huddled together to keep warm while they