One Sunday, while Tom was in the hatchery sorting baby chicks and I was watching him, we heard Grandma yelling.

Tom and I ran out of the hatchery and looked and saw that one of the little brooder coops was on fire.

We ran to the edge of the lawn just as Grandma came out of the door of the coop.   She had her apron full of baby chicks.   She threw the chicks out onto the grass and ran back into the coop.

I started to open the gate to run to her, but Tom held me back.

"Grandma.   Grandma!" I shouted.   "Let me go to my Grandma."

I wiggled and jerked like crazy, but Tom held me tight.

Grandma came out of the coop again, smoke all around her with another apron full of chicks.   She dumped them out and went back into the coop.   The roof was on fire and I was scared!

"Grandma," I sobbed in a small voice.

At last Grandma came out of the coop with another apron full of chickens and shouted, "I think I got all of them."

She walked up to where Tom and I were standing and wiped the soot from her face.  

"I think the oil heater caught on fire," she said.

We leaned against the fence and watched the coop burn to the ground.  

Grandma gave me a hug and said, "I'm all right, Precious.

Then she turned to Tom, "Can you help me get those chicks gathered up and into another coop?"

They went about gathering up chicks, while I sat down on the grass and shook and shook.

Later, Daddy built a new coop, right where the burned one had been.