At eighty-one Edna admitted that her eyes were not as good as they had been and gave up driving her own trap; but today’s excursion called for a larger vehicle, anyway. Doreen drove the new six-seat barouche, and beside her sat Rachel’s son Benjamin Bruce, called B.B. He and Doreen had been particular friends almost since his birth in April of 1854. Rachel and James were fond and proud of him too, but James fairly doted on his daughter Deborah Jane, called Jane, who had been born in June 1855.

So, on the driver’s seat sat B.B. and Doreen, with Doreen occasionally giving in to B.B.’s pleas to let him hold the horses’ reins, although to his disgust she insisted on putting her arms loosely about his in order to take the reins from him should there be sudden necessity. On the back seat facing front were Edna and Rachel, with Jane chewing her bonnet strings on the seat facing them, because she said she liked to ride backwards and alone, although her real reason was that she anticipated sitting there beside Sarah, whom she called Other-Mama instead of Grandmother.

Rein-slapping the horses into a fast trot, Doreen quickly covered the length of the driveway to Beulah Land and guided the team around the house into the back yards where the washerwomen were also taking advantage of the fair weather to work at their pots and tubs. Almost before the carriage stopped Jane had scrambled out and was running toward the kitchen door where Sarah, emerging, stooped and caught the child to lift and kiss her. By the time she had walked to the carriage to greet the others, Rachel had stepped down. After kissing Sarah and, as if on impulse, Jane too, she looked at Sarah severely and said, “Between you and James she’s certain to be spoiled.”

“You can say that after your father and I—!” Sarah laughed and let the squirming child slide over her hip to the ground. Turning to the carriage she said good morning to Edna and Doreen and hugged B.B. who had hopped off the driver’s seat.

“I drove, Grandma!” B.B. bragged.

“Did you!” To Edna she said, “My lunch baskets are ready. You don’t have to get down at all. Edna, what is it?”

“I wish you’d tell me,” Edna said. “What in the name of God are they doing over yonder?”

Sarah followed the line of Edna’s gaze, and seeing the sight that baffled her, laughed, “Selma and Pauline are teaching the school children to march. They have a recess when they grow dull from sitting too long, and instead of running about at games—now they march.”

“Are those real muskets the women carry?” Edna demanded in amazement.

“No!” Sarah laughed again. “Floyd cut musket shapes out of old boards for them, and the children carry only sticks—but they insist on carrying something!”