sights of the capital.  Laura thought the thing over.  At first she was pleased with the idea, but presently she began to feel differently about it.  Finally she said, “No, our staid, steady-going Hawkeye friends’ notions and mine differ about some things —­they respect me, now, and I respect them—­better leave it so—­I will go alone; I am not afraid to travel by myself.”  And so communing with herself, she left the house for an afternoon walk.

Almost at the door she met Col.  Sellers.  She told him about her invitation to Washington.

“Bless me!” said the Colonel.  “I have about made up my mind to go there myself.  You see we’ve got to get another appropriation through, and the Company want me to come east and put it through Congress.  Harry’s there, and he’ll do what he can, of course; and Harry’s a good fellow and always does the very best he knows how, but then he’s young—­rather young for some parts of such work, you know—­and besides he talks too much, talks a good deal too much; and sometimes he appears to be a little bit visionary, too, I think the worst thing in the world for a business man.  A man like that always exposes his cards, sooner or later.  This sort of thing wants an old, quiet, steady hand—­wants an old cool head, you know, that knows men, through and through, and is used to large operations.  I’m expecting my salary, and also some dividends from the company, and if they get along in time, I’ll go along with you Laura—­take you under my wing—­you mustn’t travel alone.  Lord I wish I had the money right now.  —­But there’ll be plenty soon—­plenty.”

Laura reasoned with herself that if the kindly, simple-hearted Colonel was going anyhow, what could she gain by traveling alone and throwing away his company?  So she told him she accepted his offer gladly, gratefully.  She said it would be the greatest of favors if he would go with her and protect her—­not at his own expense as far as railway fares were concerned, of course; she could not expect him to put himself to so much trouble for her and pay his fare besides.  But he wouldn’t hear of her paying his fare—­it would be only a pleasure to him to serve her.  Laura insisted on furnishing the tickets; and finally, when argument failed, she said the tickets cost neither her nor any one else a cent —­she had two of them—­she needed but one—­and if he would not take the other she would not go with him.  That settled the matter.  He took the ticket.  Laura was glad that she had the check for new clothing, for she felt very certain of being able to get the Colonel to borrow a little of the money to pay hotel bills with, here and there.

She wrote Washington to look for her and Col.  Sellers toward the end of November; and at about the time set the two travelers arrived safe in the capital of the nation, sure enough.

CHAPTER XXXI