The next day was a blessed one of rest, for it was not hard to go to the chapel and listen to the sermon for them and for the seniors of the academy. Aunt Hilary and the other guests watched with great interest the procession of girls in their white dresses, as they took their places in the front rows. The choir of girls sang their favorite anthems and led in the good old hymns which were so often called for at Greycliff.

“Four years at Greycliff,” thought Cathalina, and wondered what the next one would bring, for she was facing possible changes. Her thoughts ran to her brother and cousins and one fine soldier in France, from whom she had not heard for a long time.

“Four years at Greycliff,” thought Hilary. “How kind of Aunt Hilary to make it possible. Now two years of college, somewhere, perhaps at one of our church schools, perhaps at home, if Mother does not want me to go away. If—” Hilary’s thoughts, too, ran on, to a certain soldier boy who might want her some day to make a home with him, if he came back,—and perhaps it would be as well to stay with Mother and Father.

Many, many thoughts came to these girls, so fair and so young, looking forward to the fulfillment of dreams even in that sad year.

When they came down to earth after the service, Greycliff outdid herself in serving a chicken dinner beyond the memory of the oldest inhabitant. Aunt Hilary sat with the dignitaries at Miss Randolph’s table and at Hilary’s table, joy was unconfined, for Isabel had given up her seat to a visitor and occupied a chair next to Lilian. Lilian, too, had thrown off care for the day, sparkling as Lilian could when her mood was gay. Her shining hair was piled high, one little bit of short down curling in her neck. On her arms was the bracelet Philip had given her, and on her neck his latest gift, a delicate chain with a jeweled lavaliere, of a pattern then most popular. The engagement ring was on her finger, and all together, according to Isabel, Lil presented a picture of a “fine lady with jewels.”

“Do you think I have too much on, Isabel?” asked Lilian, rather taken back by Isabel’s careless remark. “I love to wear them,—you know why.”

“And we love to see them,” returned Isabel. “I beg your pardon; I wasn’t criticising.”

“Let’s arrange about the round robin,” said Betty. “I can’t stand it not to know about all you girls, and never can write regularly to so many. It will be much easier to pass on the letters. Then if we want to write any oftener to any one we can. Meanwhile the history of the chief events can be going the rounds.”

“I’m afraid we’ll give it up,” said Juliet.

“I know some girls who have kept one going for nearly ten years.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Ten.”

“Somebody will be sure to be careless and keep it too long or something.”

“We might make it a rule not to keep it more than a month, and if one had time for only a few lines that would be acceptable. It could get around at least once a year.”

“I think it will be fine,” said Eloise. “Count me in. Betty, you write to me and I’ll send it out with a letter of my own to Pauline, next up to Virgie, then east to New York, no, to Isabel first. The New York folks could gather up their epistles, or write one all together. Suppose all of us who want to have a round robin, or to take part in one, leave our names with Betty and let her start it. Who has more adventures than Betty?”

“If it depends upon my telling adventures, there will not be any round robin, for I’m not going to have any more. But I will receive names for the round robin after dinner in Lakeview Suite.”

“I can’t believe that we’re not coming back next year,” said Hilary. “It does not seem possible. Here we are, all around the table, and in a few days it will be like a dream.”

“I think I’m coming back,” said Isabel, “but sometimes I don’t care much if I don’t come. It is going to make so much difference to have you all gone. And yet I’d like to finish up here. Virgie thinks that she will teach next year, though it isn’t quite decided, you know, depends on what school she can get, and she has not heard.”

“We shall need that round robin to find out where we all are,” said Betty. “Leave an address by which we can reach you when you give me your names.”

“Strawberries, with ice cream and cake,” announced Isabel, watching the waitress as she brought in the dessert to the next table. “I wonder if they are home grown.”

“Oh, no; they couldn’t be,” said Hilary. “These are from further south. Don’t you remember that the Canada berries were ripe and beautiful about the first of July that year we went to camp. I’ll never forget my sister June’s delight. Dear me, how we go from the sublime to the ridiculous.”

“We couldn’t live on the heights all the time,” said Isabel, “and there are things we don’t dare think about at all now. Think of Betty’s last adventure. Why, the wildest imagination could not have fancied anything like that or thousands of other things that are happening here and in Europe. All the old stories of Robin Hood, and ladies held up in carriages on lonely roads, that we have read and thought so romantic, can’t hold a candle to what happens now. We hear a humming and look up,—there goes a knight of romance in an aeroplane.”

“The great trouble is that these things are not really very pleasant to live through,” said Betty. “I’d rather read about them.”

“Yes. When you know a knight, it isn’t so pleasant to have him ‘go off to the wars’, is it?”

“No, Cathalina,” replied Betty.

The next morning had one exciting hour, that during which the prizes and honors were awarded, after the morning chapel service. At Greycliff the honors for scholarship were considered the most important and were given first, to relieve the tension. Aunt Hilary sat on the platform with the faculty, in a row reserved for visitors, and received the reward of her interest in her niece when she heard Miss Randolph say, “I have the pleasure of awarding the prize, one hundred dollars, for the highest scholarship in the Collegiate classes, to Hilary Lancaster.”

Hilary had held her place in general scholarship throughout the years of her stay at Greycliff. It had meant steady effort, not neglecting her lessons under any circumstances, and a careful planning of her work in order to take her part in other activities. No one but a girl of bright, quick mind and comparative health could have made the record that Hilary’s report showed, but added to that there was necessary that determined progress of which she was capable and which carried her on to a mastery of the subjects that she had taken. It was really a very tired girl that went forward to take the little purse which Miss Randolph held in her hand. She acknowledged the gift and the applause with a little bow, and gave Aunt Hilary a bright look as she caught her eye for a moment. It was worth the effort of the four years to see the sweet approval and satisfaction in Aunt Hilary’s smile.

Lilian and Cathalina took the poetry prizes, Lilian, also, winning a prize in musical composition. Eloise shone both in music and some of the lines in scholarship, and won one of the prizes for short stories. Isabel and Virginia again won honors in debate. Betty and Cathalina both took prizes in the art lines and in English. All the Psyche Club won their “All-around G’s,” and when the silver trophy cup was brought out, to be presented to the “all-around senior girl,” it was Hilary to whom it was awarded. This award considered both scholarship and the athletic record.

“What next, Hilary?” asked her aunt as she joined Hilary back of the entrance to the platform.

“We might stroll around the grounds a while till lunch, Auntie, or how would you like a canoe ride?”

“No canoe ride, please, for me. I think that I’m quite modern till I see all the things that you girls do. I can ride and row and drive a car, but I dare not try a canoe!”

Aunt Hilary was a good deal like an older edition of Hilary Lancaster. Her hair was quite grey, but her face was young, with a fresh color and animated expression. “Suppose we just go down to the beach a while and watch the waves and birds,” said she.

“All right. By the way, we can point out the ‘pirates cave,’ too. We had forgotten that. Lil, get your guitar. You need practice anyhow, for this afternoon. The mandolin, uke and guitar club will furnish music for the class day exercises, Auntie.”

Hilary and her aunt strolled down to the beach, while Lilian went for her guitar and attached Cathalina, Betty and some of the other girls along the way.

“Whither with sweet music, Lilian?”

“Down to the beach to help entertain Aunt Hilary. Come along.”

“If you are going to the beach I think I’ll not go,” said Betty, who had not cared for the lake and its environs this spring.

“We might see Donald,” suggested Cathalina by way of replacing unhappy memories with happy ones.

Betty smiled, hesitated, and finally started with the girls. “I ought to carry away a better impression of this lake that I have really loved most of the time. Perhaps, if we have a good time there, I can remember it and the time when Donald so suddenly appeared.”

“That’s a brave Betty. Hurrah for Greycliff’s grey cliffs!”

Taller, older, more serious seemed these Greycliff girls who were to receive diplomas so soon and leave the scenes of so many girlish exploits. They joined Hilary and her aunt, who were sitting out on the rocks, discoursing of many things. Dorothy Appleton, Diane Percy and Evelyn Calvert were coming down from the wood, and Eloise, Pauline and Helen came from the boat house to add to the company as Hilary beckoned. “Come on and sing Greycliff songs for Aunt Hilary,” said she.

Lilian’s guitar started them. Aunt Hilary turned back a page or two in memory of her own schooldays, as the girls ran through their songs, athletic songs, class songs, the whole accumulation of the best efforts.

“This is a good one for today,” said Eloise, and hummed a strain to Lilian.

“Oh, yes,” said Lilian, playing a few chords in a different key.

“All ready, one, two, sing!” This song had a lively accompaniment of chords that came in with most surprising irregularity. Aunt Hilary asked afterward if it were rag-time, and was told that it was.

Not all the stanzas were as serious as this, one beginning There’s an Island; another, There’s a Cave; still another, There’s a Boat, and all recounted Greycliff doings in ballad form,—the rag-time ballad. At the close, the first stanza was repeated and the guitar finished up in great style.

“Oh, Lilian,” mourned Isabel, who had been a member of this chorus since some one had informed her where “all the girls” were. “Aren’t I going to hear any more the plunk of your glad guitar?”

“I hope that you are, Isabel, many times. But if you come to New York, as you must, I hope that Phil will be there to play much better than I can.”

Betty and Cathalina stood for a moment after the others had gone and looked out over the dancing sparkles which the sunlight made upon the water. Then Betty turned away. “I’ll carry away all the memories, Cathalina,—picnics, boat rides, the wreck and the hydroplane. Do you not think that I have had a varied career for one so young?”

Cathalina laughed at Betty’s affected tone. “Yes, I should say that if variety is the spice of life, you have been having it. Let’s hurry a little. I thought I heard the gong for lunch. I’m glad it is cool today. Everything looks so fresh and pretty. I think that there was a little shower early this morning.”

“Haven’t you the class history this afternoon, Cathalina?”

“Yes, haven’t you seen me racking my brains over it?”

“No; I remember your saying something about it, but I wondered what had become of it.”

“I wanted it to be new to the girls, so haven’t asked them many questions, except the girls that have been here since the freshman academy days.”

“Jane Mills has the class prophecy, hasn’t she?”

“I think so. There were some changes and I was not at the last class meeting.”

The last class exercises, for the senior collegiates of that year, were held on the front campus, and the other classes, as well as the guests, were invited. Girls sat or stood in groups to hear the program. The front steps of Greycliff Hall served as platform, and the members of the mandolin, uke’ and guitar club sat on the upper steps and the porch. The spray from the fountain blew in a fine mist under the shadows of the great trees and across the sunny stretches between them.

“It is hard,” said the class prophet, “to forecast the future for our Lilian. I seem to see her standing before a large audience, holding them spellbound by the cadences of her beautiful voice.” At this point, Jane turned to look at Lilian behind her, and Lilian was busy with her guitar. “Then, upon the shelves of a public library I see a handsomely bound volume of poems, with the name of Lilian North inscribed.—Ah, what is this picture that comes so rapidly upon the screen? A stately home upon the Hudson. But the film is torn here and the figures are indistinct.

“The screen shows Hilary Lancaster doing deeds of mercy. First, I see a schoolroom and Hilary surrounded by a group of scholars. Now I see her in the slums, holding a wee baby and bending over a sick mother. She wears no deaconess bonnet and I can not tell whether she is a home missionary, a minister’s wife, or merely a ‘friend to man,’ as here in school.”

Betty was seen as a bride, going away with a handsome naval officer.

Cathalina carried a degree from Columbia and was dean of a woman’s college. Pauline galloped about a large ranch, and was finally seen to ride off into the distance with a picturesque cowboy. Jane’s imagination was equal to the emergency of providing a future of thrilling interest for everybody, and the audience enjoyed her fancies. The orchestra burst forth into a mad medley of popular music at the close of the prophecy, while the rest scattered, after being reminded of the reception and ceremony of bestowing the society diplomas upon the seniors in the society halls.

“Things move rapidly this afternoon,” said Aunt Hilary.

“Yes, Auntie,” replied Hilary, “but there isn’t much to do at ‘society.’ We have about half an hour before that begins and I think that I’d better go and see if they need me to help get ready. Will you come? The girls will probably begin to come in pretty soon.”

“Indeed I will. I get as much entertainment from watching the girls as from any of the exercises.”

When they entered the Whittier Hall, Isabel was placing a little bundle of neat, white diplomas, tied with the society colors, on the corner of the piano, their new baby grand. Virgie was placing a step-ladder near one of the windows, preparatory to fixing up some of the decorations which had fallen down.

“Come and taste this,” Virgie called one of the juniors who was adding a little fruit juice to what looked like a very cooling drink in a large glass bowl.

“I’ll put this up,” Hilary offered. “You’ll have to add more ice later, so have it strong enough.”

“Look out for the ladder,” Virgie cautioned, “it’s a bit rickety.”

“All right.”

But it was not all right, unfortunately, and as Hilary mounted the ladder it tipped. Down came Hilary, not very far, to be sure, but without a chance to save herself.

“Dear child!” exclaimed Aunt Hilary. “Are you badly hurt?”

Two or three of the girls rushed to help Hilary up, but she waved them away, and sat up slowly with a white face. “I’ve turned my ankle and fallen on it. Just a minute, girls.”

“We shall have to attend to it, dear,” said Mrs. Garland, and as Hilary protected the hurt foot, with one of the girls to help, she lifted Hilary to a chair which one of the other girls drew up, ready.

“Don’t mind, Aunt Hilary, if I groan a bit,—it hurts so!” Poor Hilary put her face in her hands a moment.

“Wait a minute,” said Cathalina. “I’ll bring a rocking chair from the nearest room and we can draw her to the suite,—lucky that it is on this floor.”

In a few minutes Hilary was being drawn in a rocking chair to the suite and could not help laughing at Isabel who dashed by carrying a large enameled pail which the girls had often used on picnic. By the time Hilary’s pretty Commencement slipper was off, Isabel was back with hot water. “I’m not sure that this is the latest thing they do for sprains, but Aunt Helen always puts the boys’ sprains in as hot water as they can stand.”

“Does she detach them from the boys?” inquired Hilary, wincing a little as she tried the temperature of the water.

“Here’s cold water, too; Virgie, hurry up with that pitcher, please. Detach what, Hilary?”

“The sprains. You said she always put them in water. Ah—that feels good!”

“What’s the matter? Mercy! Is Hilary hurt?” Lilian from the doorway viewed the scene with troubled face. In her hand she carried what everybody recognized as a telegram.

“Oh, I just thought I would get up a little excitement, Lilian. Things were going too smoothly—Oh, is that our telegram from New York?”

“Yes, Oh poor Hilary!”

That was, indeed the last straw, and Hilary, in pain, knowing that the boys were on their way from the southern camp to New York and that she had a serious hurt, burst into tears. Hilary, the strong, the patient, the self-controlled, in tears! The girls all looked distressed, but Aunt Hilary now came to the fore.

“Come, Hilary, perhaps it isn’t so bad as you think,” said she. “Isabel, will you go down and ask Miss Randolph to send up the nurse and telephone for a physician? Now it is time for your little program, Hilary; which of the girls shall preside in your place?”

“Juliet is vice-president, but one of the juniors will take the chair while we—the other girls, are receiving their diplomas. Be sure that Patty is there, Cathalina. She makes the speech, you know. And see that all the seniors are there, too, before the meeting is called to order. Tell the girls about me, please, and one of you can bring my diploma.”

“I do hate to go, Hilary,” said Lilian, “and leave you like this.”

“You couldn’t do a thing. The nurse will be here in a minute and Aunt Hilary will take care of me. Oh, I’m so glad you are here, Aunt Hilary, but it just spoils your visit!”

“I am very glad to be on hand, and I already have had a wonderful visit, renewing my youth.”

“Oh, Lilian,—please let me see the telegram.”

“I’ll leave it with you, dear girl, and I’ll get back the first minute I can.” Lilian came over close to Hilary and put her arm around her neck. “Are you just a little easier?”

“Yes, Lilian, ever so much,—I’m sorry I was such a baby.”

Isabel came back, a little in advance of Miss Randolph and the one of the nurses who was not taking care of the measles patient.

“Thank you, Isabel,” said Hilary’s aunt. “Now you join the girls. Hilary will feel better to know that everything is going as usual, and it will be better for her to be alone with the nurse and the doctor, as soon as he comes.”

“Well, Hilary, child, what sort of a performance is this?” asked Miss Randolph with kindness, as she came into the suite and the nurse followed. “Mrs. Garland, this is Miss Knight, one of our nurses.”

Miss Knight had a little dose for Hilary to take, and then proceeded to examine the foot, very carefully. She was a good nurse, but very matter-of-fact, and said in reply to Hilary’s question, “No I don’t think there is anything broken.”

Hilary’s heart descended to its lowest location. “Possibly something broken. Now there was not the least hope of getting to New York in time to see Campbell before he sailed! Why did this have to happen just at this time?”

But Hilary had little opportunity to mourn at present. The janitor brought in a wheeled chair in which Hilary was conveyed to the elevator and thence to the hospital room. It was only a short time until the doctor came, a genial soul who was as gentle as a thorough examination would permit. “Nothing broken, Miss Lancaster, and I have seen worse sprains. I am afraid I can’t promise your being able to walk up for your diploma tomorrow, but you will feel a good deal better than you do now.”

“Oh, could I travel to New York in a day or two?”

“Is that necessary?” asked the doctor, hesitating.

“I want to very much.”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Miss Lancaster, I will give directions for good care of that ankle and I can tell better tomorrow, when the swelling goes down, what the prospect is.”

“He wasn’t very encouraging, was he, Aunt Hilary?” Hilary was lying in bed now, her bandaged foot and ankle on a soft pillow. “I suppose I am crazy to even think of getting to New York, but it does seem—as if—I can’t give up seeing Campbell before—” Hilary was crying again. “Please forgive me for—crying!”

“Poor little girl!” Aunt Hilary was smoothing the hot forehead. “Cry all you want to; perhaps it will do you good. You are all tired out, and I can understand what the disappointment means to you.”

“You will go to the concert tonight, won’t you?” Hilary could always think of some one besides herself.

“Yes if you want me to and if you are fit to be left.”

“Oh, I will be. I guess I am pretty tired and nervous this spring. After you have put it all through, you know——”

“Indeed I do know. Now let me tell you what I am thinking about. The telegram said that the boys were on their way from the south, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“That means a day or two yet before they even arrive, and they have to get their overseas outfit. It is rarely that they are rushed right to sea. Suppose you let the girls go, as they intend, tomorrow night, and then you and I will leave as soon as the doctor says it is safe.”

“Oh, Aunt Hilary,—‘you and I’—would you go with me?”

“Do you suppose I’m going to fail the dearest niece I have at such a time as this, if there are trains and comfortable drawing room to get you to your sweetheart? Besides, I want a look at the boy.”

Aunt Hilary laughed at the blissful expression that dawned upon Hilary’s face. “Do you like the idea? How very fortunate that I came.”

“Do I like it! ‘Fortunate!’ Aunt Hilary have you ever been lifted from the depths of despair to the heights of—” Hilary was hesitating for a word.

“Happiness?” suggested her aunt. “If you want to follow the alliteration.”

“Oh, I don’t mind this, if I can only go.”

“Go you shall,” asserted her aunt. “Now, child, I want you to be perfectly quiet and if you can, take a good nap. You are worn out.”

“I believe I can take a little nap before dinner. When the gong rings you will go, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes, and I shall be all the more likely to do so if you go to sleep.”

“All right, Aunt Hilary. Isn’t it funny how quickly things can change? I know better how Betty felt now. But she fell from a horse and did not sprain a limb, while I only fell a little way.”

“Sh-sh, Hilary. I used to put you to sleep when you were a little girl; can’t I be successful now?”

Hilary laughed and obediently closed her eyes.

The other girls, meanwhile, had received from the hands of their favorite teacher their society certificates and were busy talking to a few visiting alumnae, friends, and each other, while serving and being served with the light refreshments offered.

“Isn’t it the most unfortunate thing that Hilary had to have an accident right now!” Cathalina was filling a plate with macaroons to pass around a second time, while Lilian was putting more ice in the bowl and filling it up with the mixed fruit juices again.

“Just dreadful!” exclaimed Lilian. “What are we to do about it?”

“I have a plan, if there aren’t any bones broken. We’ll talk about it as soon as this is over. I wonder if Hilary could drink some of this?”

“We’ll take her over some. Of course, she is at the pest house now. I believe everybody’s been served and the cakes have been around twice, except these.”

“It is only five o’clock, an hour before dinner.”

Laden with good things, the two girls and Betty started over to the hospital building. “My plan is this,” said Cathalina, “that I take a stateroom, if we can get a reservation, and just put Hilary to bed and take her along. We girls can take care of her, don’t you think so?”

“Indeed we can. The nurse will show us how to bandage her foot. Or perhaps her aunt will go along. I’ll ask her to come to our house.”

“Oh, no, Lilian. They’d better come to our house because we have so much extra room. I’ll tuck Hilary away in her own rose room.”

“Do you suppose Hilary could manage on crutches?”

“We’ll have to see about that.”

Aunt Hilary was on guard, sitting outside the building on a rustic bench under a tree. As the girls hurried up with their hands full, she smiled and said, “Hilary had orders to go to sleep, but I will tiptoe in and see.” Carefully she peeped inside the door, to discover Hilary with wide open eyes, and surprise a long sigh from the injured senior.

“You bad child, you did not go to sleep at all.”

“I couldn’t, Aunt Hilary. I’m sorry.”

“Come in, girls,” called Aunt Hilary.

“Oh, the girls! Good!”

“You poor dear, how are you by this time? What did the doctor say about your foot?”

“There isn’t a thing broken, Lilian, but of course it hurts. It’s all bandaged up as tight as anything and he is going to see what the prospect is in the morning.”

“Cathalina has thought up a wonderful plan and we are going to take you with us if your aunt will let us, and we were hoping that she would go too.”

“Yes,” eagerly assented Cathalina. “We girls can take care of you just as easy as pie, put you in a stateroom,—I will arrange for one tomorrow, and Mrs. Garland, if you can possibly come, please come and add to our happiness and Hilary’s comfort by being our guest. I know that you will like my mother.”

“Aren’t you the dearest girls in Greycliff or anywhere else!” exclaimed Hilary. “Everybody is planning for poor me. I feel ashamed of my broken heart, but honestly I thought, it was cracked in two at first. And Aunt Hilary, too, had the plan to take me East.”

“Have you, Mrs. Garland?—Look, Hilary, here come more girls with more ice cream!”

Hilary, her aunt and the nurse were soon supplied with cooling and delicious refreshments, for Eloise, Helen, and Pauline had been seized with the same thought, and unaware of Lilian’s mission, had also brought the entire menu.

“This will spoil our dinner,” said Aunt Hilary.

“Let it,” said Hilary. “I’d rather have this.”

“It will probably be better for you than a heavy meal,” said the nurse. “I wasn’t planning to bring you much tonight.”

Hilary patiently bore her disappointment in not singing with the glee club that night. The thought that she might not have to miss the trip to New York made her able to bear lesser ills. The girls took Aunt Hilary to dinner and to the concert, brought her back to say goodnight to Hilary, and took her to her room at the Hall, when Hilary and the nurse both insisted that it would be absurd for her to stay with Hilary. The nurse had had special directions from the doctor and bathed, rubbed and bandaged the ankle several times during the night, that first night so hard to bear unless something is done for relief. So the time passed till morning.

When the doctor came in the morning, he was surprised to find the sprain in such good condition. “How would you like to be wheeled on the platform, with the rest of the girls, when they get their diplomas?”

Hilary was feeling so frisky and free from discomfort that she wanted to ask him if the rest were to be wheeled on too,—but did not.

“Do you mean it, doctor?”

“Indeed I do. I don’t want you to walk on it today, but you can go to everything if some one takes you. Come back for the treatment regularly and don’t have any more accidents. I would not try to leave tonight, as I believe you had planned. But by tomorrow night, I think you will feel quite comfortable. Stay in the hospital tonight and have the same treatment you had last night.”

Aunt Hilary walked out with the doctor, to make sure that Hilary was really in good condition, and came back rejoicing. “We shall really go tomorrow night, then, but I shall be on hand all day to see that nothing more happens to that foot.”

So it happened that Aunt Hilary did see her niece receive her diploma. Hilary, dressed in the pretty white graduate frock, a white shawl thrown over the bandaged foot, was carefully wheeled from the back entrance of the platform to a place in the line of girls who had been called forward and had mounted the platform to receive their diplomas. Her name had just been called, and Miss Randolph, departing from custom, stepped back to hand the diploma to Hilary. Returning to the front of the platform again, she said, “It would have been disappointment, indeed, if Miss Lancaster, who is the student receiving highest honors in scholarship, had not been able to receive her diploma in person.”

Finding that Hilary would be able to leave Wednesday, the other girls also decided to stay, help her pack and be on hand to “do her bidding,” as Lilian put it, while they made the journey. They were able to change their reservations, the railway authorities glad to get back the berths, and able to make better arrangements for them, it happened, for Wednesday night. Aunt Hilary, not Cathalina, engaged the stateroom, but promised to stay at Cathalina’s instead of at a hotel. “It would be terrible not to be all together!” Cathalina had exclaimed.

The packing was a great undertaking. The girls were all thankful for that extra day at Greycliff. The three at Lakeview Suite, though worn out with much Commencement, finished their packing early Wednesday morning while Hilary was still at the hospital, and with Aunt Hilary packed Hilary’s things later. Most of the girls had left Tuesday night, but there were still some trying goodbyes to be said. Fortunately, some of the girls could still look forward to schooldays together.

Miss Randolph paid a special visit to Lakeview Suite and earnestly expressed her pleasure at having had such loyal, fine girls at Greycliff. The girls tried to tell her how much they had appreciated what she had taught them, in so many inspiring ways, but felt that they had not been equal to the occasion. “But she knows, girls,” said Hilary consolingly, as she watched Aunt Hilary and Miss Randolph stroll off down the hall together.

At last they were on the train, Hilary so comfortable that she declared she could not have planned it better to travel in luxury, with some one to anticipate her every need. Her companions knew, however, that if Hilary could have her way she would exchange all that for a well foot. But it made a happy little company, after all. There was time for much conversation, some confidences, and many plans for the coming days. They missed Betty after she changed cars to go in another direction, but there were promises of full accounts in letters. And now the Hudson, the approach, the city.