"I guess that mile would worry the boys some," observed Mrs. Owen with
satisfaction as she brought the team to a walk.

This was wholly cryptic to Sylvia, but she was glad that Mrs. Owen was
not disappointed. As they loitered in a long shady lane Mrs. Owen made
it possible for Sylvia to talk of herself. Sally Owen was a wise woman,
who was considered a little rough and peculiar by some of her
townspeople, chiefly those later comers who did not understand the
conditions of life that had made such a character possible; but none had
ever questioned her kindness of heart. And in spite of her frank, direct
way of speech she was not deficient in tact. Sally Owen had an active
curiosity, but it was of the healthy sort that wastes no time on
trifling matters. She was curious about Sylvia, for Sylvia was a little
different from the young girls she knew. Quite naturally she was
comparing the slim, dark-eyed girl at her side with Marian Bassett.
Marian was altogether obvious; whereas Mrs. Owen felt the barriers of
reserve in Sylvia. Sylvia embodied questions in the Kelton family
history that she could not answer, though she had known Andrew Kelton
all his life, and remembered dimly his only daughter, who had
unaccountably vanished.

"Where do you go to school, Sylvia?" she asked.

"I don't go to school,--not to a real school,--but grandfather teaches
me; he has always taught me."

"And you are now about--how old?"

"Sixteen in October. I've been talking to grandfather about going to
college."