May Langley had spent four happy years at the University, and now Commencement time had come. It had been easy for her to get her lessons, so she had had time to herself. She was pretty and was always well dressed; she could dance well and sing well, so of course she had been a favorite, especially with the boys.

But the coming of the end of the school life had brought to her a real problem. She knew some of the boys would want to write to her. Deep in her heart she knew that some of them already liked her more than a little. She could not write to all of them. Whom should she choose? Perhaps the one she chose would eventually be the one she should marry, so it was wise to choose with care. Over and over she turned the question in her mind.

There was Tom,—gay, careless Tom with a big heart and plenty of money. His father was an oil man and there was no other child. He had done little with his studies but he had given her many a good time. His life would probably be one of ease. Tom was really quite attractive.

Then there was Bob, the football player. Already his name was known throughout the country. It was great fun to go to games where he was to play, for she shared the honors with him afterward. He was rough and ready, and, at times, a bit too boisterous, but withal a good fellow.

Then there was Earl, the student. He had ranked first in his class but his books were all in all to him. A good 57 position was waiting for him in a neighboring college and he had told her that he should marry so that he could have a home of his own to which the students might come.

There were others, too, but these three seemed to stand out first in her thoughts. How could she decide? She and her mother were alone in the world and mother was a helpless cripple and so could not come to the Commencement. For the first time in her life, she began to face the future seriously.

’Twas the Sunday of Commencement week and she was strolling across the campus when she saw in the distance dear, old Professor Gray—Daddy Gray, the girls called him.

“He is the very person to help me,” she said to herself, and hurried to catch him before he left the campus.

“Daddy Gray,” she began, “I have a queer question to ask you. I am choosing some boy friends whom I wish to have as friends after I leave. Tell me some principles on which to base my choice.”

A rare smile crossed the face of the old man as he patted her golden hair.

“Good for you! I am glad you are thinking. Long, long ago when my own girlies were choosing their friends I asked them to remember two things as they chose—not only that the one they chose might be their husband, but that he also might be my son, and the father of their children. One thinks much more about the principles of the man who is to be father of their children than about the man whom they love and want to marry. You know what a high ideal your mother holds. Test your friends by that also. Never mind yourself—think of others.”

Then he left her to think.

And she did think! If Tom ignored her mother as he 58 did his own, she could never bring him into their home. Tom drank sometimes—oh, that would never do. Bob was strong and healthy—but Bob had no use for God and the church. Her children must have a Christian home. Earl was a wonderful student, but he had undermined his health. He stooped in his shoulders and there were signs of a breakdown. Oh dear, what a hard test Daddy Gray had given her!

So the days wore away and she found herself watching as she had never watched before for marks of strength—mental, moral and physical. Over and over the words rang in her ears: “Never mind yourself—think of others.”

’Twas the afternoon of Commencement Day and her room had many beautiful flowers. Tom’s bunch was of great American Beauty roses and the card had made her suddenly blush as she read it. But there had come in the mail a great bunch of beautiful forget-me-nots, all fresh with the dew in the grass. Who had sent them? She loved them the best of all the flowers in the room. There was no card to be found, so she tucked a few in her dress beneath the cap and gown and ran away to the chapel.

There on the steps stood a young man and his mother, and they were waiting for her.

“May, I want you to meet my mother, for I have told her so much about you. To get her to come, I had to drive all the way home to-day. But it is worth it, even if I did have to get up before the sun did. She is the very best mother in all the world,” said the boy, and he squeezed the arm of the timid little lady.

“Maybe! Maybe! I am so glad to meet you,” said the mother, “for I owe you much. You have helped Gene such a lot. I am sure he would never have been able to keep from smoking had it not been for you. He had promised me to try. Then when you told him you did not 59 like it, why, we worked together, you see. And it has been so kind of you to go for the hikes when he has asked you, for you see he couldn’t have afforded to go to places that cost money, dear.”

May Langley opened her eyes wide. She had had no idea that she had been helping. To be sure, she had gone on many hikes with him after the geology class had thrown them together. And she had enjoyed it, too, for he was such good company. Always courteous, always hunting for ways to make the trip more worth while and always good natured, no matter what the weather, he had been a companion worth while.

So she stood and talked with the mother and son for a moment. How sweet the mother was and how proud he was of her! It was a joy to watch them.

Suddenly he spied the bit of forget-me-not.

“Ah,” he said, “I had nearly forgotten to speak of them. I passed a brook lined with them just before time for the mail train to pass the station, so I just hopped out of the car, emptied my lunch from the box and sent them to you. But I never dreamed you would get them in time to wear them. Maybe the little flowers will tell you that I am hoping you are going to remember our happy days here after we leave the campus. I want much to feel that you have a little interest in me. I have told mother much about you, for mother and I have no secrets. May I write to you sometimes?”

Just then the bell rang for the line to form and she hurried away, while he took his mother into the chapel. All afternoon they were busy and there was little time to think. But when May came to dress for the ball in the evening, she stood long before the flowers on the table. Then a sprig of the forget-me-not went into her hair and a bunch was fastened to her belt. And when he asked her for her answer as they stood on the veranda of the 60 fraternity house, she said simply, “I have enjoyed the time spent with you; I am quite sure that I should like to know you better. You may write to me if you care to do so.”

But under her breath she was saying:

“Daddy Gray is right. The greatest test of a man is not what he might be to you, but what he is and will be to others. I’m quite sure Gene Powell can stand his test and mine also.”