mind to come home at last? Mind Baby, Rose-Ellen, while I dish
up."

After supper, Daddy sat hopelessly studying the "Help Wanted"
column in last Sunday's paper, borrowed from the Albis. Jimmie
looked at the funnies, and Grandma and Rose-Ellen did the dishes.
Julie Albi, who had come to play, sat waiting with heels hooked
over a chair-rung.

The shabby kitchen was pleasant, with rag rugs on the painted
floor and crisp, worn curtains. The table and chairs were
cream-color, and the table wore an embroidered flour-sack cover.
Grandpa pottered with a loose door-latch until Grandma wrung
the suds from her hands and cried fiercely, "What's the use
doing such things, Grampa? You know good and well we can't
stay on here. Everything's being taken away from us, even our
children. . . ."


[Illustration: Grandpa pottering]


"Miss Piper come to see you, too?" Grandpa groaned.

"Taken away? Us?" gasped Rose-Ellen.

"What's all this?" Daddy demanded. He stood in the doorway
staring at Grandpa and Grandma, and his bright dark eyes looked
almost as unbelieving as they had when Mother slipped away from
him. "You can't mean they want to take away our children?"