She knew that every Tuesday morning there would be a letter from her grandfather.

Her old friend Dr.Wandless sent occasionally, in his kindly humorous fashion, the news of Buckeye Lane and the college; and Mrs.Owen wrote a hurried line now and then, usually to quote one of John Ware's sayings.

The minister asked about Sylvia, it seemed.

These things helped, but they did not supply the sympathy, of which she was conscious in countless ways, between her fellow students and their near of kin.

With the approach of holiday times, the talk among her companions of the homes that awaited them, or, in the case of many, of other homes where they were to visit, deepened her newly awakened sense of isolation.