"The most wonderful person I ever knew!" responded Sylvia warmly.
He still showed no haste to leave her, though he had just reached Waupegan, and was going away the next day.
"Your grandfather isn't teaching at Madison now, I believe?"
"No; but he lectures sometimes, and he has taught me; there was never a better teacher," she answered, smiling.
"You must have been well taught if you are ready for college so early; you are—you say you're older than Marian—do you mind my asking how old you are?"
"Nearly seventeen; seventeen in October."
"Oh! Then you are four years older than Marian. But I mustn't keep you here. Please remember me to Mrs. Owen and tell her I'll drop in before I go." He bent over the gate and put out his hand. "Good-night, Miss Garrison!"
Sylvia had never been called Miss Garrison before, and it was not without trepidation that she heard herself so addressed. Mr. Bassett had spoken the name gravely, and their eyes met again in lingering contact. When the door closed upon her he walked on rapidly; but once, before the trees had obscured Mrs. Owen's lights, he turned and glanced back.