nodded to her, and drew out from the bottom of the wagon a warm, large
cape, which he slipped over her shoulders. "The women folks were afraid
you'd git cold drivin'," he explained. He then lifted her high to the
seat, tossed her satchel into the wagon, climbed up himself, and clucked
to his horses. Elizabeth Ann had always before thought it an essential
part of railway journeys to be much kissed at the end and asked a great
many times how you had "stood the trip."

She sat very still on the high lumber seat, feeling very forlorn and
neglected. Her feet dangled high above the floor of the wagon. She felt
herself to be in the most dangerous place she had ever dreamed of in her
worst dreams. Oh, why wasn't Aunt Frances there to take care of her! It
was just like one of her bad dreams--yes, it was horrible! She would
fall, she would roll under the wheels and be crushed to ... She looked up
at Uncle Henry with the wild, strained eyes of nervous terror which
always brought Aunt Frances to her in a rush to "hear all about it," to
sympathize, to reassure.

Uncle Henry looked down at her soberly, his hard, weather-beaten old
face quite unmoved. "Here, you drive, will you, for a piece?" he said
briefly, putting the reins into her hands, hooking his spectacles over
his ears, and drawing out a stubby pencil and a bit of paper. "I've got
some figgering to do. You pull on the left-hand rein to make 'em go to
the left and t'other way for t'other way, though 'tain't likely we'll
meet any teams."

Elizabeth Ann had been so near one of her wild screams of terror that
now, in spite of her instant absorbed interest in the reins, she gave a
queer little yelp. She was all ready with the explanation, her
conversations with Aunt Frances having made her very fluent in