When the grown folks came from work, just ahead of the school children, they found Jimmie and Sally white and shaky but safe. The woolen quilt had smothered out the flames before Sally was hurt at all; and Jimmie had only a pair of blistered hands. "If I hadn't put a wool petticoat on her, and wool stockings," Grandma kept saying, while she sat and rocked the whimpering baby. "And if our Jimmie hadn't been so smart as to think of the bedclothes. . . . "Not all children have been so lucky," Daddy said in a shaky voice, crouching beside Grandma and touching Sally's downy head. "But I hadn't ought to have left her with poor Jimmie," Grandma mourned. "If only they had a Center, like at the bogs. I don't believe I can bear it to stay here any longer after this. 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! "That really would be a peekaneeka!" crowed Rose-Ellen. 4: PEEKANEEKA? That trip to Florida surprised the Beechams, but not happily. First, the driver shook his head at featherbeds, dishes, trunk. "I take three grown folks, three kids, one baby, twenty-eight dollars," he growled. "No furniture." Argument did no good. Hastily the family sorted out their most needed clothing and made it into small bundles. The driver scowled at even those. "My featherbeds!" cried Grandma, weeping for once. Hurriedly she sold the beds for a dollar to her next-door neighbor. The clock she would not leave and it took turns with the baby sitting on grown-up laps. At each stop the springless truck seats were crowded tighter with people, till there was hardly room for the passengers' feet. The crowding did help warm the unheated truck; but Grandma's face grew gray with pain as cold and cramp made her "rheumatiz tune up." And there was no place at all to take care of a baby.