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Updated: May 4, 2025
It was written; and without waiting to criticize her own phrases, she sent it to the Palazzo Serafini by a special messenger. Brooke Dalton knew that he did not excel in letter writing. He could indite a good, clear, sensible business epistle easily enough; but to express love or sorrow or any of the more subtle emotions on paper would have been impossible to him.
Along came the nurses and men with badges to help them. Into shack after shack they went, inspecting the food supplies. Rose-Ellen, staying home with sick Jimmie, watched a nurse trot out of the Serafini shack, carrying long loaves of bread and loops of sausage, alive with flies, while Mrs. Serafini shouted wrathfully after her.
Back in asparagus I send-it my kids to the Center, and what you think? They take off Pepe's clothes! They say it is not healthy that she wear the swaddlings. I tell Angelina to say to them that my madre before me was dressed so; but again they strip the poor angel." "And what did you do then?" Rose-Ellen inquired. "No more did I send-it my kids to the Center!" Mrs. Serafini cried dramatically.
Besides, if you'll hold your horses long enough to see this out, you may find they're doing you a big kindness." The people went on grumbling, but they covered their food, since they must do so or lose it. And they had to admit that there was much less sickness from that time on. "Foolishness!" Mrs. Serafini persisted, unwilling to give in.
Yet Rose-Ellen, playing with Baby Pepe, discovered that her hot old swaddlings had been taken off at last. Perhaps Mrs. Serafini was learning something from the nurses after all. "If you could show me the rest of my aflabet, Rose-Ellen," Jimmie begged, "I could teach Pedro." "But, goodness!" Rose-Ellen exclaimed. "You never would let us teach you anything, Jimmie. What's happened to you?"
Jimmie didn't try. "I liked it here," he mumbled. "I bet Pedro'll cry if we go away. He can print his first name now, but how's he ever going to learn 'Serafini'?" At once Daddy and Grandpa set to work on the Reo. It was an "orphan" car, no longer made, and its parts were hard to replace; so the men were always watching the junkyards for other old Reos.
The public health nurses, when they came to visit the sick ones, warned the women to cover food and garbage, but most of the women laughed at the advice. "Those doctor always tell us things," the Beechams' Italian neighbor, Mrs. Serafini, said lightly. She was dandling a sad baby while the sad baby sucked a disk of salami, heavy with spices. "And those nurse also are crazy.
"I'd think myself," Grandma observed dryly, "your baby might feel better in such hot weather if she was dressed more like Sally." Mrs. Serafini eyed Sally's short crepe dress, worn over a single flour-sack undergarment. "We have-it our ways, you have-it yours," was all she would say. While the elders talked, Jimmie had been staring at Pepe's next brother, Pedro.
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