She could look out upon heavily-massed trees, yellow fields with sheaves in them, and the winding streak of a flashing river.
Yet Sylvia was far from satisfied.

The valley was getting dull; she needed distraction, and her letters suggested both the means of getting it and a difficulty.

She wore black, but it had an artistic, almost coquettish, effect, and the big hat became her well, in spite of its simple trimming.

Sylvia bestowed a good deal of thought upon her appearance.
After a while Mrs.Lansing came out and joined her.
"Is there any news in your letters ?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Sylvia; "there's one from George--it's a little disappointing, but you can read it.

As usual, he's laconic." George's curtness was accounted for by the fact that he had been afraid of saying too much, but Sylvia carelessly handed the letter to her companion.
"After all, he shows a nice feeling," Mrs.Lansing remarked.