"Why, man alive, we'd starve on that pay," Daddy growled, the
corners of his jaws white with anger.

"You don't need to work if you don't want to," the manager barked
at him. "Here's two thousand folks glad to work at fifty cents."

Leaving Jimmie to mind Sally in the car, the Beechams went to
picking at once. Grandma had saved their old cotton sacks,
fortunately, since they cost a dollar apiece.

Rose-Ellen's heart thumped as if she were running a race.
Everyone was picking at top speed, for there were far too many
pickers and they all tried to get more than their share. The
Beechams started at noon. At night, when they weighed in, Grandpa
and Daddy each got forty cents, Grandma twenty-five, Dick twenty,
and Rose-Ellen fifteen.

When he paid them, the foreman said, "No more work here. All
cleaned up."

"Good land," Grandma protested, her voice shaking, "bring us from
Coloraydo for a half day's work?"

"Sorry," said the foreman. "First come, first served."

In a blank quietness, the Beechams went on to hunt a camp. And
here they were fortunate, for they came upon a neat tent city
with a sign declaring it a Government Camp. Tents set on firm
platforms faced inward toward central buildings, and everything
was clean and orderly. They drove in. Yes, they could pitch