nevieve's hands, and returned to the seclusion of her seat, rejoicing
that Tilly was playing checkers with Bertha, and so would not,
presumably, disturb her--for a time, at least.

"To-day, at noon, we are to arrive at Bolo," she wrote a little
unevenly; then with a firmer hand she went on. "Genevieve says this
ought to be a retrospect, and touch lightly upon the whole trip; so I
will try to make it so.

"It has been a beautiful journey. Nothing serious has happened, though
Bertha has worn her shoes all the time expecting it. The best thing, so
far, was our lovely day in Washington that Mr. Hartley gave us, and the
President. (I mean, we saw him and he smiled.) And the worst thing
(except that first night in my berth that Genevieve wrote of) was the
time we lost Tilly for three whole hours, and Mrs. Kennedy got so
nervous and white and frightened. We supposed, of course, she had fallen
off, or jumped off, or got left off at some station. But just as we
were talking with the porter about telegraphing everywhere, she danced
in with two very untidy, unclean little Armenian children. It seems she
had been in the emigrant car all the time playing with the children and
trying to make the men and women talk their queer English. I never knew
that gentle Mrs. Kennedy could speak so sharply as she did then to
Tilly.

"And now--since Tuesday, some time--we have really been in Texas. Some
things look just like Eastern things, but others are so strange and
queer. It is very hot--I mean, very warm, too. But then, we have just as
warm days in Sunbridge, I guess. The windmills look so queer--there are
such a lot of them; but they look pretty, too. Some of the towns are
very pretty, also, with their red roofs and blue barns and houses.
Genevieve says lots of them are German villages.

"In some places lots of things are growing, but in others it is all just
gray and bare-looking with nothing much growing except those queer
prairie-dog cities with the funny little creatures sitting on top of
their houses, or popping down into their holes only to turn around and
look at you out of their bright little eyes. We had a splendid chance to
see them once when our train stopped right in the middle of a prairie
for a long time. We got off and walked quite a way with Mr. Hartley. I
saw a rattlesnake, and I'm afraid I screamed. I screamed again when the
horrid thing wiggled into one of the dog houses. Mr. Hartley says they
live together sometimes