"We got them on long distance, and it's all right!" they told
Grandpa and Daddy.
"What's all right?" asked Grandma, beginning to be more like her
old self once more.
"A real nice place to stay in the grape country," Grandpa said
quickly. "And Miss Joyce here, she's going to take us down there
tomorrow. Down in the San Joaquin Valley."
Next morning Miss Joyce came to the tourist camp where they had
slept and breakfasted. She looked long at Carrie. Was Carrie
worth taking? Did she give much milk?
Jimmie burst into tears. "Well, even if she doesn't, she does
the best she can," he sobbed. "Isn't she one of the family?"
Miss Joyce patted his frail little shoulder and said "Oh,
well . . . !"
So Carrie was fastened into her trailer again, and the sedan
rattled southward all day, through peach orchards and vineyards
where the grapevines were fastened to short stakes so that they
looked like bushes instead of vines.
"It's . . . real sightly country," said Grandma, who felt much
better after her rest. "If only a body could settle down, I
can't figure any place much nicer. Them trees now, with the sun
slanting through.--We ain't stopping here?"
Yes, the sedan, with the trailer swaying after it, was banging
into a tiny village of brown and white cottages, with green
gardens between them and stately eucalyptus trees shading them,
while behind them stretched evenly spaced young fruit trees.
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