There Baby Sally was born; and there, before the
baby was a month old, Mother had died. Soon after, the old house
had been sold for taxes.
Grandma went about her work with the strong lines of her square
face fixed in sadness. She was forever begging Grandpa to give up
the shop, but Grandpa smashed his fist down on the table and said
it was like giving up his life. . . . And day after day Daddy hunted
work and was cross because he could find none.
For Dick and Rose-Ellen the summer had not been very different
from usual. Dick blacked boots on Saturdays to earn a few dimes;
Rose-Ellen helped Grandma with the "chores." They had long hours
of play besides.
But the hot summer had been hard for nine-year-old Jimmie and the
baby. They drooped like flowers in baked ground. Since Jimmie's
infantile paralysis, three years before, he had been able to walk
very little, and school had seemed out of the question. Unable to
read or to run and play, he had a dull time.
Grandpa and Rose-Ellen went through the clean, shabby hall to the
kitchen, where Grandma was rocking in the old rocker, Sally
whimpering on her lap.
"Well, for the land's sakes," said Grandma, "did you make up your
mind to come home at last? Mind Baby, Rose-Ellen, while I dish
up."
After supper, Daddy sat hopelessly studying the "Help Wanted"
column in last Sunday's paper, borrowed from the Albis.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25