er had just about raised her, from
what she told me. I wonder what she's going to do?" she asked, turning
to Harwood.

"She's going back to college to take her degree, and then Mrs. Owen is
going to have her at Waupegan this summer."

"Oh! I didn't know Aunt Sally was going to open her house this summer!"
said Marian, clearly surprised. "It must be just that she wants to have
Sylvia with her. They're the best kind of pals, and of course Aunt Sally
and the old professor were friends all their lives. I'm glad Sylvia's
going to be at the lake; she will help some," she concluded.

"You don't mean that you're tired of the lake?" asked Harwood, noting
the half-sigh with which she had concluded. "I thought all Waupegan
people preferred it to the Maine coast or Europe."

"Oh, I suppose they do," said Marian. "But I think I could live through
a season somewhere else. It will be good fun to have Aunt Sally's house
open again. She must be making money out of that farm now. I suppose
Sylvia's grandfather didn't have much money. Still Sylvia's the kind of
girl that wouldn't much mind not having money. She isn't much for style,
but she does know an awful lot."

"Don't you think a girl may be stylish and know a lot, too?" asked her
father.

"I suppose it _is_ possible," the girl assented, with a reluctance that
caused both men to laugh.

"Let me see: Papa, you didn't see Sylvia that summer she was at the
lake. That was the summer you played a trick on us and only spent a day
at Waupegan. Yes; I remember now; you came home from Colorado and said
hello and skipped the next morning. Of course you didn't see Sylvia."

"Oh, yes, I did," replied Bassett. "I remember her very well, indeed. I
quite agree with your mother and Aunt Sally that she is an exceedingly
fine girl."

"She certainly discouraged me a good deal about college. Four years of
school after you're seventeen or eighteen! Not for Marian!" and she
shook her head drolly.

Bassett was either absorbed in thought or he chose to ignore Marian's
remark. He was silent for some time, and the girl went on banteringly
with Harwood. She availed herself of all those immunities and
privileges which the gods confer upon young women whom they endow with
good looks. In the half-freedom of the past year she had bought her own
clothes, with only the nominal supervision of Miss Waring's assistant;
and in her new spring raiment she was very much the young lady, and
decidedly a modish o