Halfway across the campus she met her
grandfather's caller, hurrying townward. He lifted his hat, and Sylvia
paused a moment to ask if he had found her grandfather.
"Yes; thank you. My business didn't take much time, you see. I'm sorry I
put you to so much bother."
"Oh, that was nothing."
"Is that new building the college library?"
"Yes," replied Sylvia. "Are you a Madison man?"
"No. I was never here before. I went to a very different college
and"--he hesitated--"a little bigger one."
"I suppose there are bigger colleges," Sylvia remarked, with the
slightest accent on the adjective.
The young man laughed.
"That's the right spirit! Madison needs no praise from me; it speaks for
itself. Is this the nearest way to the station?"
It had been on Sylvia's tongue to ask him the name of his college, but
he had perhaps read this inquiry in her eyes, and as though suddenly
roused by the remembrance of the secrecy that had been imposed upon him,
he moved on.
"Yes, I understand," he called over his shoulder. "Thank you, very
much."
He whistled softly to himself as he continued on his way, still glancing
about alertly.
The manner of the old professor in receiving the letter and the calmness
with which he had given his reply minimized the importance of the
transaction in the mind of the messenger. He was thinking of Sylvia and
smiling still at her implication that while there were larger colleges
than Madison there was none better.
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