Well, I'm going to be in town a few days.

Take your time." * * * * * Dan Harwood never doubted that he loved Sally Owen after that dark day of Sylvia's home-coming.

From the time Sylvia stepped from the train till the moment when, late that same afternoon, just as the shadows were gathering, Andrew Kelton was buried with academic and military honors befitting his two-fold achievements, Mrs.Owen had shown the tenderness of the gentlest of mothers to the forlorn girl.

The scene at the grave sank deep into Dan's memory--the patriarchal figure of Dr.Wandless, with the faculty and undergraduates ranged behind him; the old minister's voice lifted in a benediction that thrilled with a note of triumphant faith; and the hymn sung by the students at the end, boys' voices, sweet and clear, floating off into the sunset.

And nothing in Dan's life had ever moved him so much as when Mrs.Owen, standing beside Sylvia and representing in her gaunt figure the whole world of love and kindness, bent down at the very end and kissed the sobbing girl and led her away.
Harwood called on Mrs.Owen at the cottage in Buckeye Lane that evening.