Barbara, who had been putting the younger children to bed, jumped from the wagon to stand comfortingly near her mother. Joe said gently,
"Your mother and I have some things to talk over, honey."
She said uncertainly, "All right."
Joe said, "By the way, you take your meals too, Bobby."
"I really wasn't hungry."
"You'd best take 'em anyhow."
He picked up the plate of food and the cup of coffee and led Emma into the shadows away from the fire. Gently he turned to face her.
"How much did you eat?"
"I—I wasn't hungry."
He cut a slice of meat and used the fork to try to put it into her mouth. Her self-control went, and she broke into deep, painful sobbing. "Why did you bring us to this terrible place?" she choked out. "What right did you have to take us away from our home? You—a father—to bring six children out here into this mud—four helpless little ones—this—this horrible wilderness!" The words were torn from her, her whole body shook with the violence of her feelings. "You were willing to take a chance, weren't you? But how about us! What if we starve to death out here! How will you feel when there is nothing to eat—nothing for the babies, nothing for any of us? Joe, Joe, what have you done to us!"