Before the one empty cottage the sedan stopped. The Beechams and
Miss Joyce went in.
There was little furniture in the clean house, but Grandma,
dropping down on a wooden chair, looked around her with bright
eyes. "A sitting room!" she said. "A sitting room! Seems like
we were real folks again, just for a little while. Grampa, you
fetch in the clock and set it on that shelf, will you?"
Grandpa brought in the old Seth Thomas, its hands pointing to
half-past three. "Tick-tock! Tick-tock!" it said, as contentedly
as if it had always lived there.
[Illustration: Bringing in the clock]
The children went tiptoeing, hobbling, rushing through the clean,
bare rooms, their voices echoing as they called back their news.
"Gramma, there's a real bathroom!" "Gramma, soon's you feel
better you can bake a pie in this gas stove!" "Gramma, here's an
e-_lec_-tric refrigerator! And a washing machine! And a
screened porch with a table to eat at!"
Good California smells of eucalyptus trees and, herbs and flowers
drifted through open doors and windows, together with the
chuckling, scolding, joyous clamor of mocking birds.
"I . . . I wish we didn't have to move on again!" Grandma said.
"It's a pretty good set-up," Grandpa agreed. "Good school over
yonder; and a church--and big enough garden for all our garden
sass and to can some.
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