_," laughed Sylvia. "She has an idea
that colleges do things by magic; and I'm afraid she will find out that
the wand didn't touch me."

"You didn't need the wand's magic," he answered, "for you are a woman of
genius."

"Which sounds well, Mr. Harwood; no one ever used such words to me
before! I've learned one thing, though: that patience and work will
make up for a good many lacks. There are some things I'm going to try to
do."

They loitered in the quiet paths of the campus. "Bright College Years"
followed them from the singers at the library. If there's any sentiment
in man or woman the airs of a spring night in our midwestern country
will call it out. The planets shone benignantly through the leaves of
maple and elm; and the young grass was irregular, untouched as yet by
the mower--as we like it best who love our Madison! A week-old moon hung
in the sky--ample light for the first hay-ride of the season that is
moving toward Water Babble to the strains of guitar and banjo and boy
and girl voices. It's unaccountable that there should be so much music
in a sophomore--or maybe that's a fraternity affair--Sigma Chi or Delta
Tau or Deke. Or mayhap those lads wear a "Fiji" pin on their waistcoats;
I seem to recall spring hay-rides as an expression of "Fiji" spirit in
my own days at Madison, when I myself was that particular blithe
Hellenist with the guitar, and scornful of all Barbarians!

Sylvia was a woman now. AEons stretched between to-night and that
afternoon when she had opened the door for Harwood in Buckeye Lane. His
chivalry had been deeply touched by Mrs. Owen's disclosure at the bank,
and subsequent reflection had not lightened the burden of her
confidence. Such obscurities as existed in the first paragraph of the
first page of Sylvia's life's record were dark enough in any
circumstances, but the darkness was intensified by her singular
isolation. The commission he had accepted in her behalf from Mrs. Owen
carried a serious responsibility. These things he pondered as they
walked together. He felt the pathos of her black gown; but she had
rallied from the first shock of her sorrow, and met him in his key of
badinage. She was tall--almost as tall as he; and in the combined
moon- and star-light of the open spaces their eyes met easily.

He was conscious to-night of the charm in Sylvia that he had felt first
on the train that day they had sped through the Berkshires together. No
other girl had ever appealed to