All they could look forward to was lunchtime, when they could
stretch themselves and ease their gnawing stomachs; but the sun
climbed high and the truck still banged along without stopping.
The children could hear a man in front angrily asking the driver,
"When we get-it--the dinner?"
The driver faced ahead as if he were deaf.
"When we get-it--the grub?" roared the man, pounding the driver's
shoulder.
"If we stop once an hour, we don't get there in time for your
jobs," the driver growled, and drove on.
Not till dark did they stop to eat. Grandpa, clambering down
stiffly, had to lift Grandma and Sally out. Daddy took Jimmie,
sobbing with weariness. Dick and Rose-Ellen tumbled out, feet
asleep and bodies aching. When they stumbled into the roadside
hamburger stand, the lights blurred before their eyes, and the
hot steamy air with its cooking smells made Rose-Ellen so dizzy
that she could hardly eat the hamburger and potato chips and
coffee slammed down before her on the sloppy counter. Jimmie
went to sleep with his head in his plate and had to be wakened to
finish.
Still, the food did help them, and when they were wedged into
their seats again, they could begin to look forward to the
night's rest. Grandpa said likely they wouldn't drive much after
ten, and Grandma said, "Land of love, ten? Does he think a
body's made of leather?"
On and on they went, toppling sleepily against each other, aching
so hard that the ache wakened them, hearing dimly the same angry
man arguing with the driver.
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