Free Keep Smiling Through by Ann Rinaldi Page B

knew they weren't G-men.
    They got into the car, fast. I got up and ran over to the front of the building. Just before they pulled away I saw the license plate.
    735-RU-6.
    I sealed the number in my head, the way Betty Fairfield would do. Then I went back to Grandpa as the car careened away, raising dust on the gravel.
    By now Grandpa was sitting up. Ernie was standing over him. One of the women had a towel and ice. Two men customers helped him to his feet and another brought over a chair. They sat him down.
    "Let me do it," I said to Ernie as he was about to put the ice, wrapped in a towel, on Grandpa's head. I was shaking.
    "Hold the ice on his head, there's a good girl," a woman said to me. I did so. I just sat there holding that ice up to his head while he kept saying he was fine and the other customers stood around talking about hoodlums and hecklers and how they didn't know what the world was coming to.
    I was still sitting there holding the ice on his head when the police arrived.
    "Go home, Kay," Grandpa said.
    "I want to stay with you."
    I stayed while the police questioned Ernie. They knew him. "The same crowd as last time?" one officer asked Ernie.
    He said yes. "I'm getting sick and tired of
it. A man can't make a decent living anymore without being accused of being a Nazi."
    It was then that I saw the pamphlet on the ground behind Grandpa's chair. I got up while everyone was watching the police, and I picked the pamphlet up and put it in my dress pocket.
    The police came over to Grandpa. They asked him his name and what had started the trouble. They asked if he could identify any of the men or the car.
    "I have the license-plate number," I told them.
    They smiled down at me. "Smart little girl," one said. "What is it?"
    I gave it to them.
    Grandpa just sat there, dazed. He didn't say anything, except that he didn't want any trouble. No, he didn't want to press charges. He just wanted to go home.
    "I'm afraid we can't let you do that, mister," one of the officers said. "That head doesn't look so good. I'm afraid we're going to have to take you to the hospital for a look-see.
    The way they said "look-see" was real nice. Like Uncle Jim would say it on
Jack Armstrong.
    "And then we'll want to question you," the officer said.
    I got scared then. The police were going to take Grandpa.
    "Kay"—Grandpa stood up—"go on home."
    "I want to go with you."
    "Go home," he said. "I'm all right. I'm fine. Go home and tell Nana I'm good. And I'll be home later."
    I stood watching him get into the police car. Then I ran across the highway, up the hill, and down the path to home.
    I ran all the way, my breath coming in spurts, my braids flapping, branches from bushes slapping my face. By the time I burst in the back door, I had such a pain in my side I could hardly talk.
    Nana was at the kitchen table cleaning string beans.
    "Kay," she said. "What's the matter, child?"
    Amazing Grace came into the room. "How many times have I told you not to slam that back door—," she started. Then she stopped, seeing me. "What happened?"
    "Grandpa," I said. "He's been taken."

CHAPTER 13
    Our house was in such an uproar that night, nobody even thought to tune in to any radio program. Amazing Grace took to her bed. My father came home and had to milk the cow himself because Grandpa couldn't do it and Tom and Martin were in the city.
    The police brought Grandpa home just as my father was coming in the door. He spoke with them.
    Nana stood white-faced in the kitchen, her hands folded across her stomach. "Well, Grandpa, and what did I tell you?" was the first thing she said.
    He mumbled something that sounded like "Oh, Mama, go tell yourself," refused to eat supper, and went to lie down.
    My father called me into his library. It has
a lot of bookcases, french doors that overlook the garden, a wood stove, and his desk. The books are all for grown-ups, except for the encyclopedias and a copy of
The Water Babies,
which I love to look