"Oh, are they dangerous?" queried Aunt Mary in alarm, in the act of gathering her skirts about her to enter the vehicle. Nellie was already seated sidewise on her perch.
"Not a bit dangerous, ma'am," rejoined the driver. "Never been an accident on this here line. But there could be, and there might be without keerful drivers—we have 'em on this route——"
"And couldn't you, don't you think, dust off the seats?" asked Aunt Mary, still hesitating, her skirts in her hands.
The boy here burst into a fit of uncontrollable mirth. "It's plain to be seen this here's your first trip to the mountains, ma'am. Why, what would be the use? Before we get to Witch Creek we'll be fairly eatin' dust."
With a solemn shake of the head, but making no further remarks, Aunt Mary now took her place. Giving her and Nellie each a heavy woolen blanket to serve as cushions for their backs, the driver also prepared to envelop them in linen robes, to preserve them as much as possible from the dust they were to "eat" before nightfall.
"Oh, I can't have that thing around me," said Nellie, tossing it aside. "I want to be able to move about. I'm not afraid of the dust."
Mrs. Page, who stood beside her husband watching the proceedings, was about to remonstrate, but the husband said:
"Let her alone, Martha. The dust will not hurt her. The child is right."
The driver nodded his head in approbation and prepared to take his own seat. "Here comes the mail," he said, as a short, squat man approached, carrying a sack on his shoulder. "We'll be off in a jiffy now."
"There you are, Dingley!" the man called out as he flung the mail pouch at Walter's feet.