She called them niggers--as only a Southerner may, and they called
her "Mis' Sally" and were her most devoted and obedient servants.
Much of this Sylvia was to learn later; but just now, as Mrs. Owen sat
in the cool window-seat, it was enough for Sylvia to be there, in the
company of the first woman--so it seemed to her--she had ever known,
except Irish Mary at home. The wives of the professors in Buckeye Lane
were not like this; no one was ever like this, she was sure!
"We shall be having luncheon at half-past twelve, and my grandniece
Marian will be here. Marian is the daughter of my niece, Mrs. Morton
Bassett, who lives at Fraserville. Marian comes to town pretty often and
I've asked her down to-day particularly to meet you."
"I'm sure that is very kind," murmured Sylvia, though she would have
been perfectly happy if just she and her grandfather had been left alone
with Mrs. Owen.
"There's the bell; that must be Marian now," said Mrs. Owen a moment
later, and vanished in her quick fashion. Then the door opened again
instantly and she returned to the room smiling.
"What _is_ your name, dear?" Mrs. Owen demanded. "How very stupid of me
not to have asked before! Your grandpa in speaking of you always says my
granddaughter, and that doesn't tell anything, does it?"
"My name is Sylvia--Sylvia Garrison."
"And that's a very nice name," said Mrs.
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