"Like the bricks the Israelites made in Egypt," said Grandpa;
"only Pharaoh wanted them to do without the straw."
"It's a Mexican village," observed Grandma. "I'd feel like a cat
in a strange garret here. And not a smidgin of shade. That shack
off there under the cottonwood tree looks cooler."
"It's a chicken-coop!" squealed Rose-Ellen as they walked over to
it. "Gramma wants to live in a chicken-coop!"
"It's empty. And it'd be a sight easier to clean than some
places where humans have lived," Grandma replied stoutly.
So the Beechams got permission to live in the farmer's old
chicken-coop. It had two rooms, and the men pitched the tent
beside it for a bedroom. They had time to set up "chicken-housekeeping,"
as Rose-Ellen called it, before the last of May, when beet work
began. They made a pretty cheerful place of this new home;
though, of course, it had no floor and no window glass, and sun
and stars shone in through its roof, and the only running water
was in the irrigation ditch. Even under the glistening
cottonwood tree it was a stifling cage on a hot day.
They were all going to work, except Jimmie and Sally. It would
take all of them, new hands that they were, to care for the
twenty acres they were to work. Mr. Lukes said that children
under sixteen were not supposed to be employed, but of course
they could always help their parents.
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