"They do send girls to college nowadays, don't they! We're beginning to
have some of these college women in our town here. I know some of 'em.
Let's see. What they say against colleges for women is that the girls
who go there learn too much, so that men are afraid to marry 'em. I
wonder how that is? But that's in favor of college, I think; don't you?"

Mrs. Owen answered her own question with a laugh; and having opened the
subject she went on to disclose her opinions further.

"I guess I'm too old to be one of these new women we're hearing so much
about. Even farming's got to be a science, and it keeps me hustling to
learn what the new words mean in the agricultural papers. I belong to a
generation of women who know how to sew rag carpets and make quilts and
stir soft soap in an iron kettle and darn socks; and I can still cure a
ham better than any Chicago factory does it," she added, raking a fly
from the back of the "off" sorrel with a neat turn of the whip. "And I
reckon I make 'em pay full price for my corn. Well, well; so you're
headed for college."

"I hope so," said Sylvia; "then after that I'm going to teach."

"Poor pay and hard work. I know lots of teachers; they're always having
nervous prostration. But you look healthy."

"Oh, I'm strong enough," replied Sylvia. "I think I should like
teaching."

"Marian was at Miss Waring's school last winter and I couldn't see what
she was interested in much but chasing to matinées. Are you crazy about