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A Hoosier Chronicle by Meredith Nicholson
page 26 of 561 (04%)
uptown loomed the tall shaft of the soldiers' monument, and they were
soon swinging round the encompassing plaza. Professor Kelton explained
that the monument filled a space once called Circle Park, where the
Governor's Mansion had stood in old times. In her hurried glimpses
Sylvia was unable to account for the lack of sociability among the
distinguished gentlemen posed in bronze around the circular
thoroughfare; and she thought it odd that William Henry Harrison wore so
much better clothes than George Rogers Clark, who was immortalized for
her especial pleasure in the very act of delivering the Wabash from the
British yoke.

"I wonder whether Mrs. Owen will like me?" said Sylvia a little
plaintively, the least bit homesick as they turned into Delaware Street.

"Of course she will like you!" laughed Professor Kelton, "though I will
say that she doesn't like everybody by any manner of means. You mustn't
be afraid of her; she gets on best with people who are not afraid to
talk to 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'
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