"I guess I'm not so busy. I've been getting lazy, and needed a hard
jolt. I've been wondering a good deal about these girls' colleges. Some
of this new woman business looks awful queer to me, but so did the
electric light and the telephone a few years ago and I can even remember
when people were likely to drop dead when they got their first telegram.
Sylvia isn't"--she hesitated for an instant--"from what you say, Sylvia
isn't much like her mother?"

"No. Her qualities are wholly different. Edna had a different mind
altogether. There was nothing of the student about her. The only
thing that interested her was music, and that came natural to
her. I've studied Sylvia carefully,--I'm ashamed to confess how
carefully,--fearing that she would grow to be like her mother; but she's
another sort, and I doubt if she will change. You can already see the
woman in her. That child, Sally, has in her the making of a great woman.
I've been careful not to crowd her, but she has a wonderful mind,--not
the brilliant sort that half sees things in lightning flashes, but a
vigorous mind, that can grapple with a problem and fight it out. I'm
afraid to tell you how remarkable I think she is. No; poor Edna was not
like that. She hated study."

"Sylvia's very quiet, but I reckon she takes everything in. It's in her
eyes that she's different. And I guess that quietness means she's got
power locked up in her. Children do show it. Now Marian, my grandniece,
is a different sort. She's a forthputting youngster that's going to be
hard to break to harness. She looks pretty, grazing in the pasture and
kicking up her heels, but I don't see what class she's going to fit
into. Now, Hallie,--my niece, Mrs. Bassett,--she's one of these club
fussers,--always studying poetry and reading papers and coming up to