"O mother!" wailed Emmeline a second time.
But no "O mother!" availed. Slowly, with a bitter heart, poor Emmeline gloomily but obediently put on her striped dress.
CHAPTER II
EMMELINE AND THE SCHMIDTS TAKE A JOURNEY
Mrs. Schmidt's brother lived on a lane that branched from the Emmitsburg Road, a mile beyond the road that led to the farm of Grandfather Willing. If Emmeline had not had to travel in Mrs. Schmidt's company, she would have been spared some of the ignominy of her departure. Not only was she going away from all excitement, all possibility of distinguishing herself, but she was journeying in Mrs. Schmidt's outrageous cart. She was accustomed to associate with the Schmidts, not as an equal, but as a superior. While she was dressing, she could see lame Mr. Bannon and Mrs. Schmidt putting the Schmidts' ancient horse between the shafts of the springless wagon. Into that wagon they had thrust already a feather bed, numerous chairs, a few of the six young Schmidts, and a quacking duck in a coop. Wildly Mrs. Schmidt flew about, frantically she commanded.
"Get the boondles, Mary! Sally, get the tarpet sack!" Thus did Mrs. Schmidt's tongue trip in its haste. "Hurry yourself, Peter!"
Emmeline wept as she braided her hair. "O mother!" she wailed again.
But her mother was not at hand to hear. With swift steps Mrs. Willing went about the house, now waiting on Bertha, now packing a luncheon for Emmeline.
In the lower hall Emmeline burst once more into tears. Across the street the pyramid on the Schmidt wagon was growing higher and higher. Mrs. Schmidt evidently expected the utter destruction of Gettysburg. Several soldiers had come to her aid. They helped to stow her goods on the wagon; they teased her with all sorts of predictions, to which she could reply only with a feeble "Ach!"