"That's okeydoke with me!" Dick exclaimed, yanking his sister's
curls. "You can have your old school."

Sally woke with a cry like a kitten's mew and Rose-Ellen lugged
her out, balanced on her hip. Mrs. Albi's Michael was the same
age, but he would have made two of Sally. Above Sally's small
white face her pale hair stood up thinly; her big gray eyes and
little pale mouth were solemn.

"Why," Grandma said doubtfully, "we . . . why, if Grandpa would give
up his shop--just for the cranberry season. We got no place else
to go."

Grandpa sighed. "Looks like the shop's give me up already. We
could think about it."

"All together!" whooped Dick. "And not any school!"

"Now, hold your horses," Grandma cautioned. "Beechams don't run
off nobody knows where, without anyway sleeping over it."

But though they "slept over" the problem and talked it over as
hard as they could, going to the cranberry bogs was the best
answer they could find for the difficulty. It seemed the only way
for them to stay together.

"Something will surely turn up in a month or two," Daddy said.
"And without my kids"--he spread his big hands--"I haven't a
thing to show for my thirty-two years."