"But the real honest thing to do will be to tell her you didn't write it yourself," Grandma said pityingly.
"They have stories and games at night," Jimmie said, changing the subject. "She said to bring Dick and Rose-Ellen."
Dick and Rose-Ellen were too tired for stories and games that night. They tumbled into bed as soon as supper was done, and had to be dragged awake for breakfast. Not till a week's picking had hardened their muscles did they go to the Center.
When they did go--Jimmie limping along with his clipped head tucked sulkily between his shoulders as if he were not really proud to take them-they found the place alive with fun. Besides the three girls and the woman, there was a young man from a near-by university. He was organizing ping-pong games and indoor baseball for the boys and girls and even volleyball for some grown men who had come. Everyone was busy and everyone happy.
"It's slick here, some ways," Dick said that night.
"For a few weeks," Daddy agreed.
"If it wasn't for the misery in my back, it wouldn't be bad," Grandma murmured. "But an old body'd rather settle down in her own place. Who'd ever've thought I'd leave my solid oak dining set after I was sixty! But I'd like the country fine if we had a real house to live in."
"I'm learning to do spatter prints--for Christmas," said Rose-Ellen, brushing her hair before going to bed.
"Jimmie, why on earth don't you take this chance to learn reading?" Daddy coaxed.
"Daddy, you won't tell Her I can't read?" Jimmie begged.