"And high time!" said Grandma. "We've lived on mush and milk so long we're getting the color of mush ourselves; and our clothes are a caution to snakes."
"But we'll be lucky if the brakebands of the auto3 last till we get over the mountains," said Daddy.
The spring drive up through Texas was pleasant, between blossoming yellow trees and yuccas like wax candles and pink bouquets4 of peach trees and mocking birds' songs.
The mountain pass between New Mexico and Colorado was beautiful, too, and exciting. In places it was a shelf shoved against the mountain, and Jimmie said it tickled5 his stomach to look down on the tops of other automobiles6, traveling the loop of road below them. Even Carrie, riding haughtily7 in her trailer, let out an anguished8 bleat9 when she hung on the very edge of a curve. And the Reo groaned10 and puffed11.
Up through Colorado they chugged; past Pike's Peak; through Denver, flat on the plain with a blue mountain wall to its west; on through the farmlands north of it to the sugar-beet2 town which was their goal.
Beyond the town stood an adobe12 village for beetworkers on the Lukes fields, where the Beechams were to work.
"Mud houses," Dick exclaimed, crumbling13 off a piece of mud plaster thick with straw.
"Like the bricks the Israelites made in Egypt," said Grandpa; "only Pharaoh wanted them to do without the straw."
"It's a Mexican village," observed Grandma. "I'd feel like a cat in a strange garret here. And not a smidgin of shade. That shack14 off there under the cottonwood tree looks cooler."
"It's a chicken-coop!" squealed15 Rose-Ellen as they walked over to it. "Gramma wants to live in a chicken-coop!"
"It's empty. And it'd be a sight easier to clean than some places where humans have lived," Grandma replied stoutly16.
So the Beechams got permission to live in the farmer's old chicken-coop. It had two rooms, and the men pitched the tent beside it for a bedroom. They had time to set up "chicken-housekeeping," as Rose-Ellen called it, before the last of May, when beet work began. They made a pretty cheerful place of this new home; though, of course, it had no floor and no window glass, and sun and stars shone in through its roof, and the only running water was in the irrigation ditch. Even under the glistening17 cottonwood tree it was a stifling18 cage on a hot day.
They were all going to work, except Jimmie and Sally. It would take all of them, new hands that they were, to care for the twenty acres they were to work. Mr. Lukes said that children under sixteen were not supposed to be employed, but of course they could always help their parents. Daddy said that was one way to get around the Child Labor19 Law.
So the Beechams were to thin the beets and hoe them and top them, beginning the last of May and finishing in October, and the pay would be twenty-six dollars an acre. The government made the farmers pay that price, no matter how poor the crop was.
"Five hundred and twenty dollars sounds like real money!" Daddy rejoiced.
"Near five months, though," Grandma reckoned, "and with prices like they are, we're lucky to feed seven hungry folks on sixty dollars a month. And we're walking ragbags, with our feet on the ground. And them brakebands--and new tires."
"Five times sixty is three hundred," Rose-Ellen figured.
"You'll find it won't leave more than enough to get us on to the next work place," Grandpa muttered.
It was lucky the chicken-coop was in sight of their acres. Before she left home in the early morning, Grandma saw to it that there was no fire in the old-new washtub stove, and that Sally's knitted string harness was on, so that she could not reach the irrigation ditch, and that Carrie was tethered.
The beets, planted two months ago, had come up in even green rows. Now they must be thinned. With short-handled hoes the grown people chopped out foot-long strips of plants. Dick and Rose-Ellen followed on hands and knees, and pulled the extra plants from the clumps20 so that a single strong plant was left every twelve inches.
The sun rose higher and hotter in the big blue bowl of sky. Rose-Ellen's ragged21 dress clung to her, wet with sweat, and her arms and face prickled with heat. Grandma looked at her from under the apron23 she had flung over her head.
"Run and stretch out under the cottonwood awhile," she said. "No use for to get sunstroke."
Rose-Ellen went silently, thankfully. It was cooler in the shade of the tree. She looked up through the fluttering green leaves at the floating clouds shining in the sun. Jimmie hobbled around her, driving Sally with her knitted reins24, but they did not keep their sister awake. The sun was almost noon-high when she opened her eyes, and she hurried guiltily back to the beets.
She had never seen such a big field, its green and brown stripes waving up and down to the skyline. It made her ache to think that five Beechams must take out these extra thousands of three-inch plants; and after that, hoe them; and after that. . . .
Her knees were so sore that night that Grandpa bought her overalls25. He got her and Dick big straw hats, too, though it was too late to keep their faces from blistering26. All the Beechams but Grandma wore overalls. She couldn't bring herself to it. That night she made herself a sunbonnet out of an old shirt, sitting close to a candle stuck in a pop bottle.
"I clean forgot to look over the beans and put them to soak," she said wearily, from her bed.
Rose-Ellen scooped27 herself farther into her layer of straw. She ought to offer to get up and look over those beans, but she simply couldn't make herself.
"It seems like I can't stay up another ten minutes," Grandma excused herself, "after the field work and redding up and such. But we're getting like all the rest of them, buying the groceries that we can fix easiest, even though they cost twice as much and ain't half as nourishing. And when you can't trade at but one place it's always dearer. . . ."
Mr. Lukes had guaranteed their account at the store, because of the pay due them at the end of the season. So they went on buying there, even though its prices were high and its goods of poor quality, because they did not have money to spend anywhere else.
When the thinning was done, they must begin all over again, working with the short-handled hoes, cutting out any extra plants, loosening the ground. By that time they were more used to the work; and in July came a rest time, when all they needed to do was to turn the waters of the big ditch into the little ditches that crinkled between the rows. It was lucky there was irrigation water, or the growing plants would have died in the heat, since there had been little rain.
Rose-Ellen loved to watch the water moving through the fields as if it were alive, catching28 the rosy29 gold of sunset in its zigzag30 mirrors. She missed the Eastern fireflies at night; otherwise the evenings were a delight. Colorado sunsets covered the west with glory, and then came quick coolness. Dry as it was, the cottonwood leaves made a sound like refreshing31 rain, and the cicadas hummed comfortably. All the Beechams stayed outside till far into the night, for the chicken-house was miserably32 hot at the end of every day.
"The Garcias' and Martinezes' houses are better if they are mud and haven't any shade," Rose-Ellen told Grandma. "The walls are so thick that inside they're like cool caves."
She and Dick had made friends in the Mexican village with Vicente Garcia and her brother Joe, and with Nico Martinez, next door to the Garcias', and her brothers. Even when they all picked beans in the morning, during the vacation from sugar beets, there were these long, cool evenings for play.
Grandma complained. "I don't know what else to blame for Dick's untidy ways. Hair sticking up five ways for Christmas, and fingernails in mourning and the manners of a heathen. I'm afraid that sore on his hand may be something catching. Those Garcias and Martinezes of yours . . . !"
"The Garcias maybe, but not the Martinezes," Rose-Ellen objected. "Gramma, you go to their houses sometime and see."
One evening Grandma did. Jimmie had come excitedly leading home the quaintest33 of all the babies of the Mexican village, Vicente Garcia's little sister. He had found her balancing on her stomach on the bank of the ditch. Three years old, she was, and slim and straight, with enormous eyes and a great tangle34 of sunburned brown curls. Her dress made her quainter35 still, for it was low-necked and sleeveless, and came to her tiny ankles so that she looked like a child from an old-fashioned picture.
Grandma and Rose-Ellen and Jimmie walked home with her, and Grandma's eyes widened at sight of the two-roomed Garcia house. Ten people lived and slept, ate and cooked there, and it looked as if it had never met a broom or soapsuds.
The Martinez home was different, perfectly36 neat, even to the scrubbed oilcloth on the table. Afterwards Grandma said the bottoms of the pans weren't scoured37, but she couldn't feel to blame Mrs. Martinez, with five young ones besides the new baby to look after. When the Beechams went home, Mrs. Martinez gave them a covered dish of enchiladas.
Even Grandma ate those enchiladas without hesitation38, though they were so peppery that she had to cool her mouth with frequent swallows of water. They were made of tidily rolled tortillas (Mexican corn-cakes, paper-thin), stuffed with meat and onion and invitingly39 decorated with minced40 cheese and onion tops. They looked, smelled and tasted delicious.
In turn, Grandma sent biscuits, baked in the Dutch oven Grandpa had bought her. Grandma had always been proud of her biscuits.
In July the Mexican children took Dick and Rose-Ellen to the vacation school held every summer in one of the town churches. The Beechams were not surprised at Nico's dressed-up daintiness when she called for them. Grandma said she was perfect, from the ribbon bows on her shining hair to the socks that matched her smart print dress. But it was surprising to see Vicente come from the cluttered41, dirty Garcia rooms, almost as clean and sweet as Nico, though with nails more violently red.
The Beechams found it a problem to dress at all in their chicken-apartment. Dick tried to get ready in one room and Rose-Ellen in the other, and everything she wanted was in his room and everything he wanted in hers. Their small belongings42 had to be packed in boxes, and all the boxes emptied out to find them. Clean clothes--still unironed, of course--had to be hung up, and they could not be covered well enough so flies and moth-millers did not speck43 them.
"I do admire your Mexican friends," Grandma admitted grudgingly44, "keeping so nice in such a hullabaloo."
"They are admire-able in lots of ways," Rose-Ellen answered. "I never knew anyone I liked much better than Nico. And the Mexicans are the very best in all the art work at the vacation school. I think the Japanese learn quickest."
"Do folks treat 'em nice?" asked Grandma.
"In the school," Rose-Ellen told her. "But outside school they act like even Nico had smallpox45. They make me sick!"
Rose-Ellen spoke46 both indignantly and sorrowfully. That very day the three girls had come out of the church together, and had paused to look over the neat picket47 fence of the yard next the church. It seemed a sweet little yard, smelling of newly cut grass and flowers. Trees rose high above the small house, and inside the fence were tall spires48 of delphinium, bluer than the sky.
"The flowers iss so pretty," said Nico.
"And on the porch behind of the vines is a chicken in a gold cage," cried Vicente.
Rose-Ellen folded her lips over a giggle49, for the chicken was a canary.
Just then a head popped up behind a red rosebush. The lady of the house was gathering50 flowers, and she held out a bunch to Rose-Ellen.
"Don't prick22 yourself," she warned. "Are you the one they call Rose-Ellen?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Rose-Ellen, burying her nose in the flowers.
"I had a little sister named Rose-Ellen," the woman said gently. "You come play on the grass sometime, and we'll pick flowers for your mother."
"And can Nico and Vicente come, too?" Rose-Ellen asked. "They're my best friends."
The woman looked at Nico and Vicente with cold eyes. "I can't ask all the children," she answered.
"Thank you, ma'am," Rose-Ellen stammered51. When they were out of sight down the road, she threw the roses into the dust. Nico snatched them up again.
"I wouldn't go there--I wouldn't go there for ten dollars," Rose-Ellen declared. Vicente looked at her with wise deep eyes. "I could 'a' told you," she said, shrugging. "American ladies, they mostly don't like Mexican kids. I don't know why."
October came. It was the time for the topping of the beets. The Martinez family went back to Denver for school. The Garcias stayed; their children would go into the special room when they returned, to have English lessons and to catch up in other studies--or rather, to try to catch up.
"But me, always I am two years in back of myself," Vicente regretted one day, "even with specials room. Early out of school and late into it, for me that makes too hard."
Now Farmer Lukes went through the Beechams' acres, lifting the beets loose by machine. Rose-Ellen could not believe they were beets-great dirt-colored clods, they looked. Not at all like the beets she knew.
Topping was a new job. With a long hooked knife the beet was lifted and laid across the arm, and then, with a slash52 or two, freed of its top. The children followed, gathering the beets into great piles for Mr. Lukes's wagon53 to collect.
Vicente and Joe did not make piles; they topped; and Joe boasted that he was faster than his father as he slashed54 away with the topping knife.
"It looks like you'd cut yourself, holding it on your knee like you do!" Grandma cried as she watched him one day.
"Not me!" bragged55 Joe. "Other kids does." The beet tops fell away under his flashing knife.
From the beet-dump the beets were taken to the sugar factory a few miles away, where they were made into shining white beet sugar. ("And that's another thing I never even guessed!" thought Rose-Ellen. "What hard work it takes to fill our sugar bowls!")
Sometimes at night now a skim of ice formed on the water bucket in the chicken-house. Goldenrod and asters were puffs56 of white; the harvest moon shone big and red at the skyline, across miles of rolling farmland; crickets fiddled57 sleepily and long-tailed magpies58 chattered59. One clear, frosty night Grandpa said, "Hark! the ducks are flying south. Maybe we best follow."
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1
beets
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| 甜菜( beet的名词复数 )； 甜菜根； （因愤怒、难堪或觉得热而）脸红 | |
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beet
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| n.甜菜；甜菜根 | |
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auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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8
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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9
bleat
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| v.咩咩叫，(讲)废话，哭诉；n.咩咩叫，废话，哭诉 | |
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10
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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11
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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adobe
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| n.泥砖，土坯，美国Adobe公司 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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15
squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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20
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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21
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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25
overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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26
blistering
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| adj.酷热的；猛烈的；使起疱的；可恶的v.起水疱；起气泡；使受暴晒n.[涂料] 起泡 | |
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27
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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28
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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31
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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quaintest
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| adj.古色古香的( quaint的最高级 )；少见的，古怪的 | |
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34
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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35
quainter
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| adj.古色古香的( quaint的比较级 )；少见的，古怪的 | |
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36
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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37
scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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38
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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39
invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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40
minced
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| v.切碎( mince的过去式和过去分词 )；剁碎；绞碎；用绞肉机绞（食物，尤指肉） | |
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41
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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42
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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43
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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44
grudgingly
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45
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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46
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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47
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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48
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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49
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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50
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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51
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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53
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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54
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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55
bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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57
fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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58
magpies
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| 喜鹊（magpie的复数形式） | |
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59
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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