A Hoosier Chronicle

paring for college all the Buckeye Lane folk were anxious to help. Professor Kelton would not trust his own powers too far and he availed himself of the offers of

th her windows open. A mischievous freshman who had thrown a snowball at Sylvia's heels, in the hope of seeing her jump, regretted his bad manners: Sylvia caught him in the ear with an unexpected return shot. A senior who observed the incident dealt in the l

roses. Sylvia passed her examinations, and was to be admitted to Wellesley without conditions,-all the Lane knew and rejoiced! The good news was communicated to Mrs. Owen,

upegan, and the young people have gay times. My niece, Mrs. Bassett, has a cottage on the lake only a minute's walk from me. I should like Marian and Sylvia to get acquainted and this will be easy if only you will come up for a couple of weeks. T

able had predicted; and soon they were embarked and crossing the lake, which seemed to Sylvia a vast ocean. Twilight was enfolding the world, and all manner of

miling at her long upward gaze. "Only you can hardly feel the wond

ut excessive trepidation on the part of the captain and his lone deck hand, stopped at many frail docks below the cottages that hung on the bluff above. Every cottager maintained his own light or combination of light

white, and blue is Mrs. Owen's," explained the ca

ched the green light with interest as they passed. She had thought of Marian often since their meeting at Mrs. Owe

ck, and waved a lantern in welcome. She began

ighty hungry, Sylvia. Don't smash my do

al. Mrs. Bassett had heard of the approaching visit with liveliest interest. A year before, when Marian had reported the presence in Mrs. Owen's house at Indianapolis of a strange girl with Professor Kelton, her curiosity had been piqued,

o bring the Keltons again to her attention; but now, with a casualness in itself disconcerting, they had arrived at Mrs. Owen's farmhouse, where, Mrs. Bassett was sure, no guests had ever been entertained before. The house had j

oth families. Six years of Mrs. Bassett's girlhood had been passed in Washington; the thought of power and influence was dear to her; and nothing in her life had been more natural than the expectation that her children would enjoy the fortune Mrs. Owen had been accumulating so long and, from all accounts, by processes hardly less than magical. Mrs. Bassett's humor was not always equal to the strain to which her aunt subjected it. Hallie Bassett had, in fact, little humor of any sort. She viewed life with a certain austerity, and in literature she had fortified herself against the shocks of time. Conduct, she had read, is thre

few months before she had established a working-girls' home in memory of a daughter-her only child-who had died in early youth, and this crash from a clear sky had aroused in Mrs. Bassett the gravest apprehensions. It was just so much money said to be eighty thousand dollars-out of the pockets of Marian and Blackford; and, besides, Mrs. Bassett held views on this type of benevolence. Homes for working-girls might be well enough, but the danger of spoiling them by too much indulgence was not inconsiderable; Mrs. Bassett's altruism was directed to the moral and intellect

e tennis court, where her nimbleness of foot and the certainty of her stroke made her easily first in all competitions. At the casino, after a hard round of tennis, and while waiting for cakes and lemonade to be served, she would hammer ragtime on the piano or sing the latest lyrical offerings of Broadway. Quiet, elderly gentlemen from Cincinnati, Louisville, and Indianapolis, who went to the casino to read the newspapers or to play bridge, grinned when Marian turned things upside down. If any one else had improvised a bowling-alley of ginger-ale bottles and croquet-balls on the veranda, they would have complained of it bitterly. She was impatient of restraint, and it was apparent that few restraints were imposed upon her. Her sophistication in certain directions was to Sylvia well-nigh incomprehensible. In matters of per

than even the actors of her remote adoration. She had a great number of gowns and was quite reckless in her use of them. She tried to confer upon Sylvia scarf pins, ties, and like articles, for which she declared she had not the slightest use. In the purchase of soda water and candy at the casino, where she scribbled her father's initials on the checks, or at the confectioner's in the village where she enjoyed a flexible credit, her gener

On the veranda of her house one might frequently hear her voice raised at the telephone as she gave orders to the men in charge of her properties in central and southern Indiana. Her hearing was perfect and she derived the greatest satisfaction from telephoning. She sold stock or produce on these distant estates with the market page of the "Courier" propped on the telephone desk before her, and ex

en had proudly called attention to them, to her niece's annoyance. If Sylvia's advent marked the flowering in Mrs. Owen of some new ideals of woman's development, Mrs. Bassett felt it to be her duty to discover them and to train Marian along similar lines. She felt that her husband would b

the mountains had been slow and the boat that delivered the letter brought also a telegram announcing Bassett's arrival in Chicago, so that

had a pretty lively day yesterday and I tol

world," replied Sylvia. "It doesn't seem po

ay longer. Aunt Sally told m

re than our two weeks; but Mrs. Owe

's way to bore herself. If she didn't like you very much she wouldn't have

w I appreciate it. I have never known girls; Marian is really the fir

ear," murmured

sing inflection, that turned most of her statements into interrogat

We can pretend we're looking for wild flowers to ha

er summer library; she said that they gained tang and vigor from their winter hibernation at the cottage. Her references to nature were a little self-conscious, as seems inevitable with such devotees, but we cannot belittle the accuracy of her knowledge or the cleverness of her detective skill in apprehending the native flora. She found red and yellow columbines tucked away in odd corners, and the blue-eyed-Mary with its four petals-two blue and two white-as readily as Sylvia's inexperienced eye discovered the more obviou

while, I judge, Sylvia? Of course yo

was when grandfather took me to see her in Indianapo

s are all cousins we Hoosiers are all neighbors. But of course so many of us have had Kentucky grandfathers that we understand the Kentuckians almost as well as our own peopl

e like grandfather," sa

ds they must have talked a good deal together about you

e least guileful of beings, this Sylvia, a

and Mrs. Owen talked to me about g

is no wonder you decided to go. She's a very

persuaded me. Mrs. Owen didn't know of it till afterward; but she seemed

look a little warily at the idea of college training for women. Personally, you understand, I am heartily in favor of it. I have hop

liked Marian and admired her, and she saw no reason why Marian should not go to college. Sylvia, guessing nothing of what was in Mrs. Bassett's mind, failed to understand that Mrs. Owen's approval of Marian's education was of importance. Noth

n, of course, that we have it in our home; but I'm speaking of the ideal condition where there is an atmosphere. I've made a point of keeping good books lying about the house, and the best magazines and reviews. I was never happier than the day I found Marian curled up on a lounge reading Keat

s Mrs. Bassett turned toward her she felt that it would do no harm t

the trainer can't put it there; and I suppose the successful literary women have had genius whether they had

ld it be possible that Aunt Sally looked upon Marian as one of those colts for whom the trainer could do nothing? It was not a reassuring thou

read George Eliot. She doesn't seem to me

a in a text-book on nineteenth-century writers, she was unable to follow Mrs. Bassett. She ha

parasol absently and studied the

e are not really so difficul

interlocutor. Those of us who know Sylvia find

seeing no response in her inquisitor, she added soberly: "It's all set out in the ca

stions about the work; but of course you won't say anything to Marian of ou

an't speak of i

ared, a moment later, munching a bit of toast stuccoed with jam, and eager

; your father will be here, and if you see Bla

way to the boathouse to get the canoe, "I'm glad dad's coming. He's perfectly grand, and I'm going

ng of the fifth commandment. Marian referred to her father variously as "the grand old man," "the true scout," "Sir Morton the good knight," and to her mother as

d dearly the delaying hour between day and night that is so lovely, so touched with poetry in this region. There was always a robin's vesper song, that may be heard elsewhere than in Indiana, but can nowhere else be so tremulous with joy and pain. A little creek ran across Mrs. Owen's farm, cutting for itself a sharp defile to facilitate its

the busy years that awaited her there; and after that would come the great world's wide-open doors. She was untouched by envy, hatred, or malice. There was no cloud anywhere that could mar; the stars that stole out into the great span of sky were not more tranquil than her own heart. The world existed only that

rustic bridge along the edge of Mrs. Owen's cornfield. Sylvia peered down, expecting to see Marian or Blackford, but a stranger was approaching, catching at bushes to facilitate his ascent. Sylvia stepped back, assuming it to be a cottager who had lost his way. A narrow-brimmed straw hat rose above the elderberry bus

nable time. Sylvia's hand sought the maple but did not touch it; and the keen eyes of the stranger did not loosen their hold of hers. A breeze blowing acro

didn't frighten you! I am Mr

via Garrison.

y told me at the supper-table all about you

ng; they were speakin

gain their eyes met for an instant, then he surveyed her sharpl

h through the corn that Mrs. Owen lets me use.

he edge of the field,-and I will walk to the house with you. The p

k you, Mr.

walk after supper when I'm here, and I wanted to get all the car smoke ou

nd. Once or twice he smote his stick smartly upon the ground. He timed his pace to hers, keeping close, his eyes upon her straight slender figure. When they reached t

Mr. Bassett?" asked S

ittle white-washed gate swung open.

irst time I've been here this summer, and my

telling me that you would stay a mont

I expected I have a good deal to do a

of courtesy to her, but to her surprise he f

ve at Montgomery. It's a charming town, o

grandfather taught i

f. Mrs. Bassett says you're going to college this fall-to Wellesley, is it? Mrs. Basset

nd there was kindne

t to go," answered Sylvia, her h

. "That's exactly what I think; and I haven't

Sylvia replied. "I'm ever so much older";

aying here

eems that we've har

g Mrs. Owen for a friend. S

erson I ever knew!" r

r, though he had just reached Waupeg

n't teaching at Madi

e has taught me; there was never a be

or college so early; you are-you say you're older

teen; sevente

re. Please remember me to Mrs. Owen and tell her I'll drop in before I go

essed. Mr. Bassett had spoken the name gravely, and their eyes met again in lingering contact. When the door closed