[Illustration: Mrs. Serafini]


While the elders talked, Jimmie had been staring at Pepe's next
brother, Pedro. Seven years old, Pedro might have been, but he
could move about only by sitting on the ground and hitching
himself along. He was crippled much worse than Jimmie.

"I wonder, couldn't I show Pedro my scrapbook?" he whispered,
nudging Grandma.

"To be sure; and I always said if you'd think more about others,
you wouldn't be so sorry for yourself," Grandma replied.

Jimmie scowled at the sermon, but he went in and got his books,
and the two boys sat up against the shack wall till dark, Jimmie
telling stories to match the pictures. It was a week before they
could repeat that pleasant hour. Next day both were ill with the
fever that was sweeping the hop camp.

Next time the nurses came they had medicines and suggestions for
Grandma. They liked her, and looked smilingly at the clock and
approvingly at Carrie and at the covered garbage can and at the
food draped with mosquito netting.

"We're going to have to enforce those rules," they told Grandma.
"There wouldn't be half the sickness if everyone minded as you
do."