It was nearly six when they reached home, and dinner was appointed for seven.  Mrs. Owen drove directly into the barn and gave minute instructions as to the rubbing-down and feeding of the horses.  In addressing the negroes she imitated their own manner of speech.  Sylvia had noticed that Mrs. Owen did not always pronounce words in the same way, but such variations are marked among our Southwestern people, particularly where, as in Mrs. Owen’s case, they have lived on both sides of the Ohio River.  Sometimes she said “hoss,” unmistakably; and here, and again when she said “bile” for “boil,” it was obviously with humorous intention.  Except in long speeches she did not drawl; at times she spoke rapidly, snapping off sentences abruptly.  Her fashion of referring to herself in the third person struck Sylvia as most amusing.

“Look here, you Joe, it’s a nice way to treat yo’ Mis’ Sally, turning out that wagon with the dash all scratched.  Don’ you think I’m blind and can’t tell when you boys dig a broom into a varnished buggy!  Next time I catch yo’ doing that I’ll send you down to Greene County to plow co’n and yo’ll not go to any more fancy hoss shows with me.”

As she followed Mrs. Owen into the house Sylvia thought she heard suppressed guffawing in the stable.  Mrs. Owen must have heard it too.

“A worthless lot,” she muttered; “I’m going to clean ’em all out some day and try the Irish”; but Mrs. Sally Owen had often made this threat without having the slightest intention of carrying it into effect.

Professor Kelton had just reached the house, and he seemed so hot and tired that Sylvia was struck with pity for him.  He insisted, however, that he was perfectly well, but admitted that his errands had proved to be more vexatious than he had expected.

“What kind of a time have you been having?” he asked as they went upstairs together.

“Oh, the finest in the world!  I’m sure I’ve learned a lot to-day—­a great many things I never dreamed about before.”

“Horses?”

“I never knew before that there was anything to know about horses; but Mrs. Owen knows all about them.  And that team we drove behind is wonderful; they move together perfectly and go like lightning when you want them to.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself.  You’d better put on your white dress,—­you brought one, didn’t you?  There will be company at dinner.”

“Don’t you scare that child about company, Andrew,” said Mrs. Owen, coming up behind them with the linen duster flung over her arm.  “If you haven’t any white dress, Sylvia, that blue one’s perfectly good and proper.”

She followed Sylvia to her room, continuing to reassure her.  She even shook out the gown, exclaiming, “Well, well” (Sylvia didn’t know why), and went out abruptly, instructing Sylvia to ring for the maid if she needed help.