It was the morning of the musical and the day before Commencement. Lessons were over for the year, and all the girls were in a high state of holiday excitement.

Connie’s name was on the program twice, the first time for a two piano piece with Nora Peters, and the second for a very difficult sonata by herself. The professor had promised that if she were encored, she might play one of her own compositions. So Connie, full of thrills, practiced night and day.

Angela, left to herself, joined forces with Betty and together with Polly and Lois they were always at the service of the Senior class. They were kept pretty busy, running errands and doing the dozen and one things that were to be done before the musical.

Just now they were sitting on the floor of the assembly room platform, waiting for orders. The Seniors had their hands full with the decorations and were transforming the dignified old room into a bower of greens and dogwood.

Madelaine Ames approached Louise with a very worried expression on her usually smiling face.

“We haven’t half enough branches,” she complained. “We need loads more dogwood. Can’t Polly and Lois get some for us?”

“Hush!” cautioned Louise, for they were within ear-shot of the four girls. “Don’t you realize that their hands mustn’t be all scratched up? Ask Bet and Angela.”

Madelaine crossed the platform to where the four sat in mystified silence, for they had overheard every word of the conversation between the two older girls.

“Betty,” she called, “will you and Angela get us some more big branches of dogwood or apple blossoms? Those stupid Sofs brought in only little twigs. Take one of the stable boys with you to do the heavy work for you. You know about the size we want.”

“Of course we will,” answered Betty, “and we’ll bring you the trees back if you want them,” she called as they disappeared. On their way to the stables Angela said:

“I’d like to know what Lo and Poll are having their hands saved for.”

As she said it, Polly and Lois, still on the platform, were wondering the same thing.

“Can’t we do something for you?” Lois asked presently, trying to look unconscious.

“Yes, if you will,” Louise answered. “I’m worried to death about my Commencement dress; it hasn’t come yet. Will you go down to the express-room and see if there’s a package for me?”

“If there is, hadn’t we better open it and shake the wrinkles out of your dress?” suggested Polly.

“Do, please, and I’ll love you even more than I do now,” promised Louise.

The box had arrived, and as the two girls untied it and took out the countless wads of tissue-paper, they discussed the subject uppermost in their minds.

“What did Louise mean about our hands, Lo?” Polly demanded.

“Perhaps it’s something to do with the musical,” answered Lois, slowly smoothing out the creamy white sleeve.

“They’d hardly be so particular about that,” mused Polly, “and yet it couldn’t be anything to do with Commencement.”

“N-no.” Lois hesitated as she crumpled up a piece of tissue-paper into a tight ball. “Still, I can’t help thinking that no one has been chosen to carry the ribbons on Commencement.”

“But we couldn’t do that,” Polly objected. “We’re Freshmen and you know you told me they always choose two girls from their sister class.”

“They always have, but everything is so upside down this year that nothing would surprise me. The Sofs are cross because the Seniors didn’t return their party.”

“Don’t let’s think about it. Goodness, I feel just the way I did before the sub team was chosen.”

“All right. I guess we’d better go and tell Louise that her dress is here.”

“I do wish we hadn’t overheard anything about our hands, though, for, try as I will, I can’t get it out of my head,” Polly remarked as they were on their way back to the Assembly Hall.

“Cheer up, we’ll soon know,” Lois reminded her. As they entered the room she called:

“It’s here, Louise, and it’s a perfect darling. It’s all foamy lace and ribbons and looks just like soda-water.”

“Thank you so much,” Louise said. “I’m ever so much obliged.”

“By the way, as we came over the Bridge of Sighs, we saw the florist’s cart in the driveway. Don’t you want us to bring up the flowers?” Polly inquired.

“Oh, please do, and fix them in these,” Louise replied, pointing to three large glass vases.

The arrangement of the big American beauties which were to decorate the platform occupied the girls until luncheon time.

A few minutes before the bell rang, Angela and Betty returned, laden down with dogwood and apple blossoms. When they had deposited their burden and were standing with Polly and Lois, three of the Seniors joined them. Mary Reeves was one of them, and as she put her arm on Betty’s shoulder she said:

“We certainly can’t thank you girls enough for all you’ve done, but instead of giving you a rest, we are going to ask for more. Will you be ushers for us this afternoon and see about bringing in the flowers to the girls who are to take part in the musical? All the boxes will be put in the history-room and the cards will be on them.”

“All you will have to do,” continued Florence Guile, “is to bring them in and give them to the girls they’re for, after they have finished their stunt. Will you do it for us?” she asked, smiling.

“Certainly we will,” Betty replied.

“Don’t try to pretend it’s a favor to you,” laughed Lois. “You know we just love to do it.”

“I know you are all ducks, and I don’t know what we would have done without you,” Florence told them just as the luncheon bell rang.

When the girls had taken their seats at the table, Polly whispered to Lois:

“You see, it’s all explained. It was for the musical.”

“You are all wrong,” contradicted Betty, who had overheard the whisper. “It’s still a mystery; you forget Angela and I are going to help this afternoon, too, and I didn’t notice anybody getting excited over our hands.”

“I never thought of that. I guess you’re right, Bet,” Lois agreed, and she and Polly exchanged puzzled glances mixed with a new hope.

The next couple of hours were full to overflowing. The corridors were crowded with fluffy beribboned girls all talking at once.

“Some one button me up!”

“Who took my shoe horn?”

“Tie my hair ribbon for me, please!”

“I can’t find my only pair of silk stockings!” and other such demands.

About half past three the first carriages from the station that were bringing the visitors began to arrive. Every one was doing a favor for some one else, or greeting friends and relatives. Such happy excitement prevailed everywhere that the school resembled a cage of fluttering butterflies.

At four o’clock the recital began. Seddon Hall was renowned for its music. Some of the girls played remarkably well, and there were a number of beautiful voices.

Connie had to give not only one encore, but two, and it was her own composition that called forth the heartiest applause.

Polly, Lois, Angela and Betty were kept busy bringing in big bunches of violets, roses and lilies-of-the-valley. After Edith Thornton had sung two funny little Irish songs and the audience had stopped their enthusiastic applause, Louise Preston rose to give the farewell address in the name of the Seniors.

With clear well-chosen words she told of her class’s love for Seddon Hall, its influence for good on all who entered it, the ever-ready sympathy of its dearly loved superior, Mrs. Baird, and ended with the regret they all felt at leaving. It was a triumph of beautiful thoughts told in beautiful English.

After the thunders of applause there was hardly a dry eye in the room, and Polly and Lois were crying quite shamelessly, as they brought in the many bouquets to their Senior president.

Suddenly every one began to talk, praise, and congratulations were in the air. The musical was over. The visitors left for the hotel in the village, where they were to spend the night so as to be on hand for Commencement. The girls returned to their corridors to change their fluffy dresses for more comfortable ones and then to wander about the hall, discussing the recital and waiting for the bell.

After dinner they walked about the grounds in small groups, singing school songs and farewells to the Seniors. When they came in they spent the rest of the evening visiting from room to room and packing trunks.

The Seniors had built a bonfire on the side of the gym farthest away from the school. As the twilight deepened, their shadows lengthened as they sat around the blaze, and their thoughts turned back to the past. They were burning their old notebooks and papers.

“Well, it’s all over,” sighed Madelaine Ames, throwing her history examination into the fire. “But what a year it’s been!”

“We’ve beaten last year’s class average in marks,” announced a voice from the shadow. “The Spartan told me so.”

“Disagreeable, funny old Spartan! I’ll even miss her,” murmured some one else.

“We’ve been popular, too, I think,” mused another voice.

“Louise’s name will be on the cup twice as basket-ball captain.” It was Mary Reeves speaking. “And no one will ever say Field Day wasn’t the finest game in years.”

There was silence for a few minutes and then Madelaine said:

“Wonder what the next class will be like?”

Florence Guile was gazing into the fire.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” she drawled. “They’re too studious.”

“I’ve been here four years, and it breaks my heart to leave,” Louise spoke for the first time.

“It isn’t as bad for you and Florence as it is for the rest of us,” some one answered. “You’re both going to college next spring—lucky dogs—while we will have to go in for society—awful thought.”

“But college won’t be Seddon Hall,” Louise replied. “Wonder if they’ll miss us?”

“The Freshmen will. Oh, what a class they’re going to make when they are Seniors! I hope they all come back,” Mary Reeves exclaimed.

“That reminds me—What about telling Polly and Lois about tomorrow?” demanded Louise. “Mrs. Baird said to wait until after the musical. She agrees with us that none of the ‘Sofs’ will do, but she doesn’t want them to have time to grumble.”

“We forgot all about it,” Madelaine gasped. “You and Florence go and ask them now, they adore you. But hurry back,” she called as the two girls started for the school.

Polly and Lois were in the latter’s room amid confusion, heaps of clothes, shoes, and books. Polly was curled up on the bed brushing her hair, and Lois was sitting on the window seat, her elbow on her knee and her chin cradled in her hand. They were discussing the prospects of the next winter without the Seniors.

Polly had just given vent to a deep sigh and the words:

“It will never be quite the same without them.”

And Lois was saying:

“Fancy the Senior table without Louise,” when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” called Polly, and Florence and Louise entered the room.

“I’ve come to thank you two precious infants for that beautiful basket of flowers,” Louise began. “It was mighty thoughtful of you, and I do appreciate it so much.”

Lois and Polly were so confused by the sudden entrance of the very persons they had been talking about that they could only stammer:

“Oh, it wasn’t anything, really!”

“But we’ve something more important than that to say,” Florence announced, and then waited for Louise to break the news.

Polly and Lois exchanged glances.

“It’s another favor,” laughed Louise. “Do you think you could act as ribbon girls for us tomorrow?” Then pretending not to hear the joyful gasps of surprise, she continued: “You’ll have to come down to church tomorrow morning when we rehearse the procession and we’ll show you what to do. Will you do that for us?”

It had come, and though both girls had half expected it, it was a tremendous surprise.

“Oh, Louise, you know we’d love to do it!” cried Lois.

“It’s most too good to be true,” Polly exclaimed excitedly, then very solemnly she added to Florence: “To think we will really help you graduate! It’s the most thrilling thing that ever happened to me in my whole life!”

“I’m so glad you will do it for us,” smiled Florence, and turning to Louise she added: “We’d better go back to the girls. I think they’ll be waiting for us. It’s almost time to serenade Mrs. Baird.”

Polly and Lois, left alone, could do nothing but look at each other. At last Lois gave a thoroughly contented sigh.

“Who says we’re not in luck?” she asked.

“It’s a perfect ending to a perfect year,” replied Polly, putting her arm around her friend. “You know—”

“Hush!” whispered Lois. “They’re singing!”

They opened the window and leaned far out upon the ledge. Through the warm night air came the sound of the Seniors’ voices singing their last farewell, beneath Mrs. Baird’s window, in accordance with the old Seddon Hall custom.