continued the tale. . . .

"But they haven't anything for us to do the rest of the time; and
how they do hate the sight of us 'rubber tramps,' the minute
we've finished doing their work for them," Dick ended.

Next morning they started up the coast to pick lettuce. The
country was beautiful. Rounded hills, soft looking and of the
brightest green, ran down toward the sea, with really white sheep
pastured on them. Grandpa said it put him in mind of heaven.
Grandma said it would be heaven-on-earth to live there, if only
you had a decent little house and a garden. The desert places
were as beautiful, abloom with many-colored wildflowers; and
there were fields of artichokes and other vegetables, with
Chinese and Japanese tending them. Those clean green rows
stretched on endlessly.

"They make me feel funny," Rose-Ellen complained, "like seeing
too many folks and too many stars."

"They've got so many vegetables they dump them into the sea,
because if they put them all on the market, the price would go
down. But there's not enough so that those that pick them get
what they need to eat," said Grandpa. "Sometimes too much is not
enough."

The lettuce camp housed part of its workers in a huge old barn.
The Beechams had three stalls and used their tent for curtains.
They cooked out in the barnyard, so it was fortunate that it was
the dry season. From May to August the men and Dick picked,