Eleanor giggled and nudged Polly but Polly turned a serious face to her friend. "Nolla, I think the same as Sary—I'd rather go slower."
"Good gracious, Polly, are you frightened, too?" exclaimed Eleanor.
"No, but I want to remember every inch of this grand country if I am to stay in New York for many months, you see."
Eleanor understood, and left Polly to her silent work of impressing her mind with the views she wished to remember, later; Sary would provide enough entertainment for Eleanor during the trip to Denver.
"Jeb, what you-all clutchin' at my arm like-as-how you are?" now asked Sary, in no weak or tender voice.
"Ah ain't clutchin' nothin', Sary!" was Jeb's defense of his manhood.
"Ah don't know what you call it, then. Sit up like a regular traveler, Jeb, and don't slump in the seat like-as-how your head wants to duck from some crash," declared Sary, heroically trying to lift Jeb's courage by gripping his coat collar and hoisting him almost out of his badly fitting coat.
Eleanor smothered a laugh but said nothing to disturb the vaudeville she was enjoying. Mr. and Mrs. Brewster were talking earnestly about the future of their daughter.
Suddenly Polly cried thrillingly: "Oh, look, everybody! We're coming to a torrent, and the train won't slow up!"
Sary instantly turned to the window and saw what seemed to be an unavoidable end of all earthly things, so she half rose from the seat and grabbed Jeb in her ample embrace. "Ef we go, we goes together, Jeb!"