his time I was going alone, and
that gave rather a different aspect to things. To go into the country
for a few days, or even to Detroit, in the company of a watchful parent,
might be called a "visit"; but to go alone, partly by train and partly
by stage, and to arrive by one's self, amounted to "travel." I had an
aunt who had travelled, and I felt this morning that love of travel ran
in the family. Probably even Aunt Cordelia had been a trifle nervous, at
first, when she started out for Hawaii, say, or for Egypt.

Mother and I were both fearful that the driver of the station 'bus
hadn't really understood that he was to call. First she would ask
father, and then I would ask him, if he was quite sure the man
understood, and father said that if the man could understand English at
all--and he supposed he could--he had understood that. Father was right
about it, too, for just when we--that is, mother and I--were almost
giving up, the 'bus horses swung in the big gate and came pounding
up the drive between the Lombardy poplars, which were out in their
yellow-green spring dress. They were a bay team with a yellow harness
which clinked splendidly with bone rings, and the 'bus was as yellow
as a pumpkin, and shaped not unlike one, so that I gave it my instant
approval. It was precisely the sort of vehicle in which I would have
chosen to go away. So absorbed was I in it that, though I must have
kissed mother, I have really no recollection of it; and it was only when
we were swinging out of the gate, and I looked back and saw her standing
in the door watching us, that a terrible pang came over me, so that for
one crazy moment I thought I was going to jump out and run back to her.

But I held on to father's hand and turned my face away from home with
all the courage I could summon, and we went on through the town and
out across a lonely stretch of country to the railroad. For we were an
obstinate little town, and would not build up to the railroad because
the railroad had refused to run up to us. It was a new station with a
fine echo in it, and the man who called out the trains had a beautiful
voice for echoes. It was created to inspire them and to encourage them,
and I stood fascinated by the thunderous noises he was making till
father seized me by the hand and thrust me into the care of the train
conductor. They said something to each other in the sharp, explosive way
men have, and the conductor took me to a seat and told me I w