thought he would not like to be called "movers." Some movers fell
entirely below his ideas. But now he saw how much finer it was to be
travelling in a carriage than on the swift-shooting cars. He felt
sorry for the Reynoldsburg boys. One of them hinted that he might be
expected out West himself some day, and told Robert to watch down the
road for him. He appeared to think the West was a large prairie full
of benches, where folks sat down and told their adventures in coming.

Bobaday considered his position in the carriage the only drawback to
the Reynoldsburg parade. He ought to be driving. In the course of the
journey he hoped grandma Padgett would give up the lines--which she
had never yet done.

They drove out of Reynoldsburg. The tin-covered steeple on the
church dazzled their eyes for perhaps the last time.

Then coming around a curve in the 'pike appeared that soul-stirring
sight, the morning stage from Columbus. Zene and grandma Padgett drew
off to the side of the road and gave it a wide passage, for the stage
had the same right of way that any regular train now has on its own
track. It was drawn by six of the proudest horses in the world, and
the grand-looking driver who guided them, gripped the complication of
lines in his left hand while he held a horn to his mouth with the
right, and through this he blew a mellow peal to let the
Reynoldsburgers know the stage was coming. The stage, billowing on
springs, was paneled with glittering pictures, gilded on every part,
and evidently lined with velvet. Travellers inside looked through the
open windows with what aunt Corinne considered an air of opulent
pride. She had always longed to explore the interior of a stage, and
envied any child who had been shut in by the mysterious click and