her. She isn't like anybody you ever saw, or, I think, anybody
you are ever likely to see again!" And the professor chuckled softly to
himself.
Mrs. Owen's big comfortable brick house stood in that broad part of
Delaware Street where the maple arch rises highest, and it was
surrounded by the smoothest of lawns, broken only by a stone basin in
whose centre posed the jolliest of Cupids holding a green glass
umbrella, over which a jet of water played in the most realistic
rainstorm imaginable.
Another negro, not quite as venerable as the coachman, opened the door
and took their bags. He explained that Mrs. Owen (he called her "Mis'
Sally") had been obliged to attend a meeting of some board or other, but
would return shortly. The guests' rooms were ready and he at once led
the way upstairs, where a white maid met them.
Professor Kelton explained that he must go down into the city on some
errands, but that he would be back shortly, and Sylvia was thus left to
her own devices.
It was like a story book to arrive at a strange house and be carried off
to a beautiful room, with a window-seat from which one could look down
into the most charming of gardens. She opened her bag and disposed her
few belongings and was exploring the bathroom wonderingly (for the bath
at home was an affair of a tin tub to which water was carried by hand)
when a maid appeared with a glass of lemonade and a plate of cakes.
It was while she munched her cakes and sipped the cool lemonade in the
window-seat with an elm's branches so close that she could touch them,
and wondered how near to this room her grandfather had been lodged, and
what the mistress of the house was like, that Mrs. Owen appeared, after
the lightest tap on the high walnut door. Throughout her life Sylvia
will remember that moment when she first measured Mrs. Owen's fine
height and was aware of her quick, eager entrance; but above all else
the serious gray eyes that were so alive with kindness were the chief
item of Sylvia's inventory.
"I thought you were older,--or younger! I didn't know you would be just
like this! I didn't know just when you were coming or I should have
tried to be at home--but there was a meeting,--there are so many things,
child!"
Mrs. Owen did not sigh at the thought of her burdens, but smiled quite
cheerfully as though the fact of the world's being a busy place was
wholly agreeable. She sat down beside Sylvia in the window-seat and took
one of the c
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