blame Mrs. Martinez, with five young ones besides the new baby to
look after. When the Beechams went home, Mrs. Martinez gave them
a covered dish of _enchiladas_.

Even Grandma ate those enchiladas without hesitation, though they
were so peppery that she had to cool her mouth with frequent
swallows of water. They were made of tidily rolled _tortillas_
(Mexican corn-cakes, paper-thin), stuffed with meat and onion and
invitingly decorated with minced cheese and onion tops. They
looked, smelled and tasted delicious.

In turn, Grandma sent biscuits, baked in the Dutch oven Grandpa
had bought her. Grandma had always been proud of her biscuits.

In July the Mexican children took Dick and Rose-Ellen to the
vacation school held every summer in one of the town churches.
The Beechams were not surprised at Nico's dressed-up daintiness
when she called for them. Grandma said she was perfect, from the
ribbon bows on her shining hair to the socks that matched her
smart print dress. But it was surprising to see Vicente come
from the cluttered, dirty Garcia rooms, almost as clean and sweet
as Nico, though with nails more violently red.

The Beechams found it a problem to dress at all in their
chicken-apartment. Dick tried to get ready in one room and
Rose-Ellen in the other, and everything she wanted was in his
room and everything he wanted in hers. Their small belongings
had to be packed in boxes, and all the boxes emptied out to find
them. Clean clothes--still unironed, of course--had to be hung
up, and they could not be covered well enough so flies and