"Like riding on feathers," Joe agreed and he called back to his
daughter, "How do you like this, Bobby?"
"Oh, it's grand!" Her voice was gay, but there was a strange undertone
in it that Joe could not understand. He looked quizzically at Emma. She
lowered her voice.
"Barbara isn't really in the wagon, Joe. She's gone to Oregon ahead of
us."
"Oh," he said, only half understanding.
She said softly, "Our little girl has grown up, Joe. But she isn't so
grown-up that she can't dream, and I hope she never will be. What were
you thinking of when you were her age?"
"You," he said promptly.