see how clean we can get. My land, what wouldn't I give for a
bathtub and a sink! And a gas stove!"

"Peekaneeka, Gramma!" Dick reminded her, squeezing her.

"Picnic my foot! I'm too old for such goings-on."


[Illustration: Lying down on the beds]


Though Grandma's rheumatism had doubled her up like a jack-knife,
she scrubbed herself with energy and soon had potatoes boiling,
pork sizzling, and tea brewing on the rickety stove. Daddy
brought Jimmie and Sally from the Center. After supper they felt
a little better.

Jimmie wouldn't tell about the Center, but from inside his blouse
he hauled a red oilcloth bag, and emptied it out on the table.
There were scissors, crayons, paste, pencil, and squares of
colored paper. And there was a note which Jimmie smoothed out
and handed to Daddy.

"From Jimmie Brown," he read, "Bethel Church, Cleveland."

"We-we were s'posed to write thank-you letters!" Jimmie burst out
miserably. "She sat us all down to a table and gave us pens and
paper."

"And what did you do, Son?" Daddy asked, smoothing the bristly