GRADUATION
Thus did Paul's troubles dissolve in air and with the June winds blow
far away. In the meantime graduation came and the essay he delivered was
clicked off on Mr. Carter's typewriter which, considering the fact that
it was a second-hand one, was an amazingly fresh and unscarred machine.
Nor was this all. After the graduation exercises had come to a close,
and the audience was passing out of the building, Mr. Cameron and the
publisher of the _Echo_ came face to face in the corridor. They had not
met since the famous mayoral campaign when Carter, by means of wholesale
bribery, had swept all before him. Hence the present encounter was an
awkward one and many a citizen of Burmingham stopped to witness the
drama. Had the two men been able to avoid the clash they would
undoubtedly have done so; but the hallway was narrow and escape was
impossible. Here they were wedged in the crowd, each of them having come
hither to see his son take his diploma. It was a day of rejoicing and
no time for grudges.
Melville was at his father's elbow while at Mr. Cameron's heels tagged
Paul, hot, tired, but victorious.
The instant the group collided the magnate's hand shot out and gripped
that of the editor-in-chief of the _March Hare_.
"Well, youngster, I'm proud of you!" he exclaimed. "You did well. We
shall be making a newspaper man of you yet."
Then, glancing up into the face of the lad's father, he added with
hesitating graciousness:
"I--I--congratulate you on your son, Cameron."
Mr. Cameron was not to be outdone.
"And I on yours, Mr. Carter. Melville is a fine boy. You must be glad
that he has done so well."
"Oh, Melville's not perfect," declared Mr. Carter, obviously pleased,
"but he is all the boy we've got and we like him."
There was a pause.
"Our young representatives have done pretty well on this paper of
theirs, haven't they?" remarked Mr. Carter the next moment.
"They certainly have," agreed Mr. Cameron. "The _March Hare_ is a very
readable and creditable little magazine. You've done both the school and
the community a service, Carter, by printing it."
"I've made some blunders in my life, Cameron, for which I have since
been very sorry," the rich man said, looking significantly into Mr.
Cameron's eyes. "But printing the _March Hare_ was not one of them,
thank God! We consider the school paper well worth printing," he added
in a lighter tone. "Everything the _Echo_ prints is worth while, you
know."
Mr. Cameron laughed at the jest.
"I've been dragged into reading your august publication, you know," said
he. "I subscribed to it against my will, I must own; however, I must
confess that I have enjoyed it very much. If you'd change your party,
Carter, and come into the proper political fold--"
Mr. Carter held up his hand.
"No propaganda, Cameron!" he declared good-naturedly. "We must learn
wisdom of our children. Their paper is quite non-partisan. In fact," he
continued, lapsing into seriousness, "the younger generation teaches us
many things. I've learned a lesson or two from your son. You have put a
great deal of your fineness of principle into him, Cameron. I hope you
realize what a deep respect I entertain for you. I have always regretted
the occurrences that parted us. If I had my life to live over again, my
dear sir, there are some offenses that I should not repeat. An honor
that one wins by foul means is an empty one. I took an unfair advantage
of an honorable gentleman in the campaign of 1916 and I have always
been sorry and longed to tell you so. I now offer you my hand. It is the
only amendment I can make for the past."
The apology was a handsome one and Mr. Cameron was a big enough man to
be forgiving.
Taking his enemy's palm in a warm grasp he said:
"We all blunder sometimes, Carter."
"An honest blunder is one thing; but pre-meditated meanness is quite
another, Cameron. However, I appreciate your generosity. It is like
you--on the same scale with the rest of your nature." Then to shift a
subject that was embarrassing he remarked: "As for these young rascals
of ours, I suppose a great career awaits each of them after college is
over. Your son has a better brain than mine; but they are both promising
fellows. I'd like to land Paul in an editorial position. He has a
decided gift for such a job. Perhaps later on I may be able to help him,
should he decide to take up such work permanently. I should be very
proud to be of service either to you or him, Cameron."
"Thank you, sir," replied Mr. Cameron courteously.
Amid the pressing crowd they separated, the parents to go home in a mood
of satisfaction and happiness, and the boys to continue the day's
festivities with a class banquet and a dance.
That banquet was a never-to-be-forgotten affair!
For weeks the class officers had been planning it and no detail was
omitted that could add merriment and joy to the crowning event of 1920's
career.
No sooner were the guests seated at the long table and the spread fairly
begun than a stuffed rabbit, exquisitely decorated with the class
colors, was borne into the room. This was, of course, the far-famed
March Hare. Its advent was greeted with a storm of clapping.
Very solemnly it was elevated in Paul's hands and amid shouts and cheers
was carried by the graduating editor-in-chief to the president of 1921
where, with an appropriate speech, it was surrendered into the keeping
of the incoming seniors.
Then the banquet went on only to have its progress interrupted at
intervals by bustling attendants who came rushing in with telegrams,
special delivery letters, and telephone messages from the Hatter, the
Red Queen, the Dormouse, and many another well-beloved Wonderland
character. Afterward the Walrus and the Carpenter sang a song and then,
with great acclaim and a crash of the orchestra, the folding doors
opened and Alice herself, impersonating 1921, entered, gathered up the
_March Hare_, and with a graceful little poem of farewell to 1920 took
the head of the table.
With a sigh glad yet regretful, Paul surrendered his place.
He had longed for the day when he should be graduating from school and
setting forth for college; but now that the moment had really arrived,
he found himself not nearly so glad to depart from the High School as he
had expected to be. Many a pleasant memory clustered about the four
years he had spent in those familiar classrooms. And the comrades of
those years,--he was parting from them, too. Some were scattering to the
various colleges; some were going into business; others were to remain
at home. Never again would they all travel the same path together. Alas,
graduation had its tragic as well as its happy aspects!
Perhaps some such thought as this lurked deep down in the breast of
every member of 1920, but for the sake of one another, and to make the
last moments they were to spend together unclouded by sadness, each
bravely struggled to banish this sinister reflection.
Hence the dance that followed the banquet was an uproarious affair. When
one is young and all the world lies before, the conqueror Gloom is
short-lived. So 1920 danced gayly until midnight, forgetful of every
shadow, and when weary, sleepy, but triumphant, a half-jubilant,
half-sorrowful lot of girls and boys betook themselves to their homes,
it was with ringing cheers for the Burmingham High School, the class of
1920, the _March Hare_, Mr. Carter, its printer, and Paul Cameron, its
editor-in-chief.
[Transcriber's Note:
The following errors have been corrected:
List of Illustrations: The page number for the last illustration has
been changed from 137 to 136.
Page 77: "Strasburg" changed to "Strasbourg" (a native of Strasbourg,)
Page 111: "acounts" changed to "accounts" (When the accounts were found
to be short,)
Page 171: "papier-mache" changed to "papier-mache" (a sort of
_papier-mache_)
All other spelling and punctuation inconsistencies have been retained.]
End of Project Gutenberg's Paul and the Printing Press, by Sara Ware Bassett