" He was ticking off the points on his
fingers. "And a chicken-house, and then this here cooperative
farm where the folks all work together and share the profits."
Jimmie flung himself down on the floor, sobbing. "I don't want
to go on anywhere," he hiccupped. "I want to stay here."
But Dick was looking from Grandpa to Miss Joyce and then to Daddy
who had come, smiling, in at the back door. "You mean. . . ."
The words choked Dick. "You mean we might settle here? But how?
Who fixed it?"
"The government!" Grandpa said triumphantly. "Mind you, this
place is the government's fixing, to give migrants a chance to
take root again. It's an experiment they are trying, and we are
having the chance to work with them. We can buy this place and
pay for it over a long term of years. We've got the Christian
Center and the government to thank."
"Why, maybe after a while we could even send for the goods we
stored at Mrs. Albi's!" Grandma cried dazedly.
"You mean this is home? Home?" shrieked Rose-Ellen.
"Carrie thinks so," Daddy, said with a smile. "Run along and see
if she doesn't. Run along!"
The children rushed past him into the backyard. There stood
Carrie, still a moth-eaten-looking white goat. But now she had a
new gleam in her amber eyes, and at her feet a tiny, curly kid,
as black as coal.
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