“Take in the gang plank,” said Uncle Hiram, when his passengers were finally settled.
That, Elizabeth Ann discovered, meant to close the car door.
“Full steam ahead,” said Uncle Hiram and started the car.
“Good-by, good-by!” cried all the Masons; and Elizabeth Ann and Doris waved and waved till they could see the little brown house no longer.
Now if Elizabeth Ann had been all alone, or if Doris had been alone, each little girl might have felt a bit homesick at that moment—riding away in a strange car with a strange uncle. But two little girls can’t feel forlorn when they have each other; and besides, as Elizabeth Ann wrote to Uncle Doctor later, it took a great deal of time to understand what Uncle Hiram was saying. Because he talked like a sailor, and neither Elizabeth Ann nor Doris understood sailor talk.
It was a most beautiful September day and the roads were lined with goldenrod. Elizabeth Ann would have liked Tony to enjoy the scenery but she didn’t feel that it would be safe to take him from his basket, and Uncle Hiram said that he agreed with her.
“Cats have to get used to strange ships,” he rumbled in his deep voice. “Wait till we get Tony to the Bonnie Susie and he’ll feel at home in a couple of days.”
Elizabeth Ann, watching the gray road roll out like a piece of ribbon in front of the car, thought often of Uncle Hiram’s house. Doris had said it was like a boat.
“But of course,” said Elizabeth Ann to herself, “it can’t be a real boat. I never saw a real boat on the land. And Uncle Hiram lives on a farm, and you have to live in a house when you live on a farm.”
She was wondering about Uncle Hiram’s house, when his deep voice spoke to her and she jumped a little.