Maybe we best go back to the city and put them in a Home."

Daddy objected. "We'll not leave the kids alone again, of
course; but we're making a fair living and the Boss says there'll
be work through April, and then Pa and I can go out and plant
seed oysters if we want."

"Where's the good of a fair living if it's the death of you?"
Grandma's tone was tart. "No, sir, I ain't going to stay, tied
in bowknots with rheumatiz, and these poor young-ones. . . ."

Grandpa made a last effort, though he knew it was of little use
when Grandma was set. "I bet we could go to work on one of these
truck farms, come summer."

Grandma only rocked her straight chair, jerking one foot up and
down.

"One of these _padrones_," Daddy said slowly, "is trying to get
families to work in Florida. In winter fruits."

Grandma brightened. "Floridy might do us a sight of good, and I
always did hanker after palm trees. But how could we get there?"

"They send you down in a truck," said Daddy. "Charge you so much
a head and feed and lodge you into the bargain. I figure we've
got just about enough to make it."

South into summer!