There was always a robin's vesper song, that may be heard elsewhere than in Indiana, but can nowhere else be so tremulous with joy and pain.

A little creek ran across Mrs.Owen's farm, cutting for itself a sharp defile to facilitate its egress into the lake; and Sylvia liked to throw herself down beside a favorite maple, with the evening breeze whispering over the young corn behind her, and the lake, with its heart open to the coming of the stars, quiet before her, and dream the dreams that fill a girl's heart in those blessed and wonderful days when the brook and river meet.
On this Saturday evening Sylvia was particularly happy.

The day's activities, that had begun late, left her a little breathless.

She was wondering whether any one had ever been so happy, and whether any other girl's life had ever been so pleasantly ordered.

Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of college and the busy years that awaited her there; and after that would come the great world's wide-open doors.