A SHIVER ran down my back as the last chords of the Ivy Song were played. It was actually a reality—our dream had come true for we were at last garbed in those precious white robes for which we had been striving for four years. Memories of these years rushed over me. How burdened we were with our importance in being Freshmen; Seniors seemed very old and distant. Suddenly we slipped from cock robins to conscientious Sophomores. By this time rumors were heard of a financial problem that we, as Juniors, must meet. Immediately we began to save all our pennies in order to startle the Faculty and the Seniors of 1925 with a luxurious Junior-Senior ball. So our Sophomore year closed with many peeks into the class treasury.

Dancing, fortune telling, freaks, and so on, came to our rescue in preparation for the J. S. We Juniors, as financiers, staged a Junior carnival—and it was successful.

May the twenty-ninth, in the year of our Lord, one thousand-nine hundred and twenty-five, was the red letter day of our Junior year. Our hopes, not our fears, were realized. Gayly we danced to “Tea for Two” in the green and white decked ballroom (alias the dining room) and promenaded in a garden in Japan, otherwise the roof garden. Sadly—ah, yes—the music hesitated and then ceased—as we unitedly sighed, perhaps with relief, perhaps with weariness. Who knows? Our Herculean task had passed, and our eyes were turned to the magnetic red ties. Honored beyond recognition we were the first to abide in the new Senior room, south-west parallel room 40, on the third floor. June quickly slipped near and we fixed our hopes and ambitions on the now approaching goal, graduation.