ed that the
world was bounded by the lines of the campus, and that nothing lay
beyond it really worth considering but Centre Church and the court-house
and the dry-goods shop where her grandfather had bought her first and
only doll. She bade Mary sit down and talk to her while she ate
breakfast in the little dining-room; and the old woman poured out upon
her the gossip of the Lane, the latest trespasses of the Greek
professor's cow, the escapades of the Phi Gamma Delta's new dog, the
health of Dr. Wandless, the new baby at the house of the Latin
professor, the ill-luck of the Madison Eleven, and like matters that
were, and that continue to be, of concern in Buckeye Lane. Rumors of the
sale of the cottage had reached Mary, but Sylvia took pains to reassure
her.

"Oh, you don't go with the house, Mary! Mrs. Owen has a plan for you.
You haven't any cause for worry. But it's too bad to sell the house. I'd
like to get a position teaching in Montgomery and come back here and
live with you. There's no place in the world quite like this."

"But it's quiet, Miss, and the repairs keep going on. Mr. Harwood had to
put a new downspout on the kitchen; the old one had rusted to pieces.
The last time he was over--that was a month ago--he came in and sat down
to wait for his train, he said; and I told him to help himself to the
books, but when I looked in after a while he was just sitting in that
chair out there by the window looking out at nothing. And when I asked
him if he'd have a cup of tea, he never answered; not till I went up
close and spoke again. He's peculiar, but a good-hearted gentleman. You
can see that. And when he paid me my wages that day he made it five
dollars extra, and when I asked him what it was for, he smiled a funny
kind of smile he has, and said, 'It's for being good to Sylvia when she
was a little girl.' He's peculiar, very peculiar, but he's kind. And
when I said I didn't have to be paid for that, he said all right, he
guessed that was so, but for me to keep the money and buy a new bonnet
or give it to the priest. A very kind gentleman, that Mr. Harwood, but
peculiar."

The sun came out shortly before noon. Sylvia walked into town, bought
some flowers, and drove to the cemetery. She told the driver not to
wait, and lingered long in the Kelton lot where snow-draped evergreens
marked its four corners. The snow lay smooth on the two graves, and she
placed her flowers upon them softly without disturbing the w