"I'm sure that is very kind," murmured Sylvia, though she would have
been perfectly happy if just she and her grandfather had been left alone
with Mrs. Owen.

"There's the bell; that must be Marian now," said Mrs. Owen a moment
later, and vanished in her quick fashion. Then the door opened again
instantly and she returned to the room smiling.

"What _is_ your name, dear?" Mrs. Owen demanded. "How very stupid of me
not to have asked before! Your grandpa in speaking of you always says my
granddaughter, and that doesn't tell anything, does it?"

"My name is Sylvia--Sylvia Garrison."

"And that's a very nice name," said Mrs. Owen, looking at her fixedly
with her fine gray eyes. "You're the first Sylvia I have ever known. I'm
just plain Sally!" Then she seized Sylvia's hands and drew her close and
kissed her.

As Sylvia had brought but one white gown, she decided that the blue
serge skirt and linen shirt-waist in which she had traveled would do for
luncheon. She put on a fresh collar and knotted a black scarf under it
and went downstairs.

She ran down quickly, to have the meeting with the strange niece over as
quickly as possible. Mrs. Owen was not in sight, and her grandfather had
not returned from town; but as Sylvia paused a moment at the door of the
spacious high-ceilinged drawing-room she saw a golden head bent over a
music rack by the piano. Sylvia stood on the threshold an instant, shy