"Five dollars." Daddy's jaw tightened. "They called it junk. Well, the grub will last a little while. . . ."
"And when Gramma's rested, we can pull the trailer and kind of hike along toward them apples," Grandpa said stoutly.
But Grandma looked as if she'd never be rested. She lay quite still except for the breath that blew out her gray lips and drew them in again, and her closed eyes were hollow. The other six stood around and gazed at her in terror. Anyone else could be sick and the earth went on turning, but . . . Grandma!
They were too intent to notice the car stopping beside them until a man's voice said, "Sorry, folks, but you'll have to move on. Against regulations, this is."
"We're Americans, ain't we?" Grandpa blustered, shaken with anxiety and anger. "You can't shove us off the earth."
"Be on your way in twenty-four hours," the man said, pushing back his coat to show the star on his vest. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
"Americans?" Daddy said harshly, watching the sheriff go. "We're folks without a country."
"May as well give the young-ones some of the grub we bought," Grandpa said patiently.
It was while they were hungrily munching the dry bread and cheese that another car came upon them and with it another swift change in their changing life.
Two young women stepped out of the chirpy Ford sedan. Neither of them looked like Her, nor even Her No. II--yet Jimmie whispered excitedly to Rose-Ellen, "I bet you a nickel they're Christian Centerers!"