unsteadily to straighten herself in the seat and raising trembling hands
to her rather dilapidated old hat, "that I was sure to come to it some
day. There's a fate in such things."

The girls looked at each other uncertainly, and into the minds of each
flashed the startled suspicion that perhaps the poor old soul was mentally
defective. Or, maybe, the accident--

The woman seemed to sense something of their bewilderment, and into her
eyes, still bright in spite of her age and what she had just gone through,
there came a twinkle--yes, a real twinkle.

"No, I'm not crazy," she assured them, regaining her strength with amazing
quickness. "You see, it seemed kind o' funny to me after all these years
o' swearin' that I'd never ride in one o' these gasoline cars to find
myself in one after all,--and at my time o' life."

The girls gasped with relief, but still had the strange feeling of one who
has been speeding over the water with all sails set and suddenly finds
herself in the midst of a dead calm.

"B-but," stammered Amy, voicing the general sentiment, "we thought--were
afraid--you were hurt badly--"

"Guess maybe I'd have thought so, too, if I'd had the chance," responded
the surprising old lady ruefully. "Pretty well mussed up, I guess, and
stunned. Shouldn't wonder if I found a heap o' bruises around me
somewhere--but no bones broke. You see," she added, as though imparting a
great secret, "the Sandersons' bones jest never was made to break. Now,
there was our cousins--the Petersons--they was different. One o' that