Grace Harlowe's Fourth Year at Overton College Part 24

Greatly to her delight, Emma Dean had been asked to play the part of the Spirit, and exhibited real histrionic ability in the role. As Loyalheart, Grace, who, day after day, had been painstakingly coached by Anne, left nothing to be desired in her portrayal of the role a.s.signed to her. Ruth Denton, Gertrude Wells, and Miriam Nesbit, respectively, enacted the roles of Honor, Forbearance and Silence, while Elfreda insisted on playing Good Humor, and was greeted with appreciative laughter whenever she appeared.

The play was written in blank verse, and many of the pa.s.sages were extremely beautiful. Loyalheart's farewell to Haven Home and the revelation of the Spirit to Loyalheart at the Highway of Life were particularly worthy of note. The speeches of Good Humor scintillated with wit, and the unpleasant characters in the play were peculiarly true to life. Grace took half a dozen curtain calls, and Kathleen West was also summoned before the curtain and publicly presented with the honor pin by President Morton.

It was an evening long to be remembered, and the story of Loyalheart and her pilgrimage was destined to remain in the minds of the Overton girls for many a day.

It was after eleven o 'clock when a very tired Loyalheart went forth on a pilgrimage to Wayne Hall, accompanied by her equally loyal supporters, who were proudly bearing numerous floral offerings which had been handed to Grace over the footlights.

"I am so tired," she sighed, "but so happy. It was a beautiful play, wasn't it?"

"And you were the nicest part of it," said Anne fondly. "Your portrayal of Loyalheart was wonderful."

"And so was your coaching," retorted Grace, promptly.

"It is far from early," remarked Elfreda in a suggestive tone, as they halted for a moment at the head of the stairs, "but we are all here, and I know how to make fruit punch. In fact, I got the stuff ready, thinking that it might be useful!"

"We will be in your room within the next ten minutes," said Grace decisively. "Such hospitality is not met with every day."

True to her word, ten minutes later she and Anne were seated on the foot of Elfreda's bed, kimono clad and smiling, while Elfreda labored with the fruit punch. Kathleen West and Patience Eliot, who had also been invited to the punch party, were seated on cus.h.i.+ons on the floor.

Suddenly the soft tinkle of a mandolin sounded under the window, then a chorus of fresh young voices sang softly:

"Come, tune your lyre to Kathleen West, Of all the plays hers is the best; Long may she s.h.i.+ne, long may she wave, Her shrine we deck with garlands brave; May Fortune bring her world renown-- To Kathleen West, girls, drink her down."

"How perfectly sweet in them!" exclaimed Kathleen, her color rising.

"Hus.h.!.+" Miriam held up her finger.

"Dear Loyalheart, we sing to you, O girl so brave and sweet and true, May life to you be wondrous kind, And may you all its treasures find; May skies ne'er threaten you, nor frown-- To Loyalheart, girls, drink her down."

Owing to the lateness of the play no one at Wayne Hall had had time to retire, and, hearing the music, the girls had with one accord hurried to the windows.

"Come on up, Gertrude," called Grace into the soft darkness. "I know your voice. How on earth did you get out of your costume, go home for your mandolin and manage to land under Miriam's and Elfreda's window, all within half an hour?"

"That's easy. We brought our instruments of torture with us to the play, and Elfreda agreed to have you girls in her room at the time appointed."

"There is fruit punch enough to go round, and dozens of cakes," observed an ingratiating voice over Grace's shoulder.

"We had several more verses to sing, and one for you, Elfreda. If you will ask Mrs. Elwood's permission, we will come up, sing them and incidentally sample the punch and the cakes," stipulated Gertrude.

There were seven girls in the party of serenaders--Gertrude, Arline, Ruth Denton, the Emerson twins, Elizabeth Wade and Marian c.u.mmings. When the last cake had disappeared and the punch was almost gone, the serenading party sang the rest of their verses and departed gayly, yet in spite of their gayety there lurked in each heart the shadow of the parting that was to come all too soon.

CHAPTER XXIII

GRACE FINDS HER WORK

Commencement day dawned smilingly, as though anxious to contribute to the happiness of the four chums by putting on its most suns.h.i.+ny face. A cool breeze swept across the campus, and, according to J. Elfreda Briggs, one didn't really mind being graduated on such a day.

The hotels of Overton were well filled with friends and relatives of the graduates. The Southards, Mrs. Gray, Mrs. Pierson and her daughter Mary, together with Mrs. Allison, Mabel and the remainder of the Eight Originals Plus Two had been staying at the "Tourraine" for the past two days. Elfreda's father and mother had also arrived and were staying at the "Wilton," an old-fas.h.i.+oned hotel near the campus. The four chums found it somewhat of a problem to divide their time equally among their cla.s.smates, friends and families. During those last days their opportunities for confidential talks came only at the end of the evening, when, having bade a round of affectionate good-nights, they spent a few moments in either Grace's or Miriam's room before retiring.

"I feel at least a hundred years old to-day," announced J. Elfreda Briggs, as she stood arranging her hair before the mirror preparatory to putting on her cap and gown.

"Yes, you look quite like some grand old ruin," observed Miriam soberly, as she unearthed her slippers from the depths of her closet and hunted vainly about for a shoe horn.

Elfreda laid her comb on the dressing table, grinned her appreciation of this pleasantry, then, giving her smoothly coiffed hair a last pat, reached for her cap. "I am so glad I can wear black without looking like a funeral procession," she observed.

"Hurry, girls," sounded Grace's clear tones outside their door. "It is time we were on our way."

"Coming," called Miriam, springing from the edge of the bed, where she had sat to put on her slippers, and hastily adjusting her cap. In the next instant the four friends accompanied by Emma Dean were hurrying across the campus to the gymnasium, where the senior cla.s.s were to meet, then proceed in a body to the chapel, where the commencement exercises were to be held.

The little procession of seniors walked two by two to the chapel, and to Grace, who walked with Anne, it seemed the most wonderful moment of her life. She marked the calm, almost exalted expression which Anne wore.

Elfreda and Miriam, looking very stately in their black gowns, were just ahead of her and Anne, while Arline and Ruth Denton were directly behind them. As they walked sedately down the aisle of the chapel to the places reserved for them, Grace's eyes searched the rows of seats for her father and mother, whom she spied when almost opposite them. Just as she pa.s.sed their row she managed to send one tender little glance to them, which caused their faces to glow with pride as their fond eyes followed the straight, supple figure of their daughter who had so amply fulfilled their expectations.

The exercises, while impressive to the friends of the graduates, were doubly so to the graduates themselves, who were deeply conscious of the fact that their diplomas were their pa.s.sports into the real world of work and endeavor that was now about to open before them.

At the conclusion of the exercises the usual gifts and endowments to the college were announced. Among them was Thomas Redfield's annual gift to the Semper Fidelis Club, which brought forth a quick tribute of applause from the seniors, which was seconded by the entire a.s.semblage. "And lastly allow me to mention the latest and one of the most acceptable gifts ever bestowed upon the college," stated President Morton.

Grace bowed her head. She had reached the very end of Senior Lane. A few moments and her college life would be over. She had finished her course.

She had kept faith with herself, and now there remained the wide world and her work, whatever that might be. Her reflections were brought to an abrupt end by what President Morton was saying. She raised her head in sudden amazement. "I refer to the newly completed house at the northern end of the campus," she heard, "presented to Overton and endowed by Mrs.

Rose Gray as a mark of appreciation of her young friends, Grace Harlowe, Miriam Nesbit and Anne Pierson. It is Mrs. Gray's wish that her gift to Overton College shall be known henceforth and forever as 'Harlowe House.'"

Absolute silence reigned for an instant after this announcement, then the quiet chapel echoed with the applause of the enthusiastic a.s.semblage. President Morton waited until he could make himself heard, then went on to explain more fully that Harlowe House was to be dedicated to the use of those girls who were making a struggle to acquire a college education. Then there was more applause, and Mrs. Gray was asked to address the graduates.

"And to think," said Grace, as, a little later, she stood with Miriam, Anne and Elfreda outside the chapel, surrounded by those she loved, "that I know at last what my work is going to be."

"But we don't know," reminded her father, almost wistfully.

"There is only one thing for me to do," laughed Grace, her eyes s.h.i.+ning, "and that is----"

"Oh, I know," interposed Elfreda, "you're coming back to the campus to look after Harlowe House."

"You could see that, couldn't you, Elfreda?" laughed Miriam.

"How did you guess it?" asked Grace. "Yes, I should like to come back if Father and Mother can spare me."

"The rest of her friends don't count," commented Hippy Wingate.

"You know they do, Hippy," smiled Grace. "I must have the permission and good will of all of them if my work is to be a success."

"You have your mother's and my full consent, Grace," said her father loyally.

Grace made a little movement toward her parents, slipping in between them and catching a hand of each. "There is only one thing I can say, and I've said it hundreds of times before, You are the dearest father and mother a girl ever had."

It was rather a silent quartette that gathered for the last time in Grace's room that night. Emma Dean had left Overton on the evening train. So had Patience Eliot, Kathleen West and Laura Atkins. The soph.o.m.ores of Wayne Hall had departed before commencement, and to-night the house was very quiet.