She wore one of her every-day dresses of dark blue gingham, and her white sunbonnet, but the familiar little figure had taken on a new interest to them.

They regarded her as some sort of a venturesome Columbus, about to launch on a wild voyage of discovery.

None of them had ever been beyond Jaynes's Post-office in their journeyings, and the youngest had not seen even that much of the outside world.
Betty herself could not remember having been on a longer trip than to Livermore, a village ten miles away.

There was an excited flutter in her throat as the wagon started forward with a jolt, and she realised that now she was looking her last on safe familiar scenes, and breaking loose from all safe familiar landmarks.
"Good-bye!" she cried again, looking back at the little group on the porch with tears in her eyes.
"Good-bye! Good-bye!" they called, in a noisy chorus, repeating the call like a brood of clacking guineas, until the wagon passed out of sight down the lane.

The road turned at the church.