THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
With the passing of the Easter holidays unbroken quiet settled down over
Oakdale High School.
The boys went back to college and the girls to High School to finish the
little that remained to them of their senior year.
The proceeds of the concert had amounted to four hundred and seventy
dollars, and with a contribution of five hundred dollars more from Mrs.
Gray, the members of the senior class were the proud possessors of a
fund of nineteen hundred and eighty dollars, which was to be presented
to Miss Thompson on graduation night as their contribution toward the
gymnasium.
The three lower classes had also raised considerable money, but
collectively it had not reached the amount earned by the seniors.
The playing of the great Savelli at the concert was still a matter of
comment in Oakdale. There were several persons in the audience who had
previously heard him play, and had at once recognized him. More
remarkable still was the fact of his being the father of Eleanor
Savelli, and all sorts of rumors sprang up regarding his advent in
Oakdale, and his affairs in general. As for Eleanor, it was some time
before she could accustom herself to the idea of having a living father,
and a famous one at that. She had gone down to the carriage on the night
of the concert wondering what was in store for her, and had scarcely
stepped inside before she had been clasped in the arms of the virtuoso,
and addressed as his child. Shaking herself free from his clasp, she had
demanded an explanation from her aunt, who had told her the truth, which
to her at the time had seemed unbelievable.
Her first feeling toward her father had been entirely one of pride. Her
aunt had been all in all to her since babyhood, therefore she
experienced little of the feeling of affection toward him that he
manifested for her. The fact that her father was a great artist was a
source of infinite satisfaction to her, but gradually as she grew better
acquainted with him she began to experience a degree of affection for
him that in time became positive worship.
He was to remain at "Heartsease" until after her graduation, then,
accompanied by Miss Nevin, Eleanor was to sail for Italy with him, there
to remain until he should begin a European concert tour in the fall.
Then she would go to Leipsig and enter the very conservatory where her
mother and father had met. She had resumed the final "i" so long dropped
from her name, and now proudly signed herself Savelli.
The Phi Sigma Tau, particularly Anne and Grace, became prime favorites
with the great violinist and were frequently invited to "Heartsease" to
hear him play, an honor which was accorded to no one else in Oakdale.
The days hurried by altogether too swiftly to suit Grace and her three
closest friends, who looked forward to commencement week with mingled
emotions of joy and regret. Graduation was the goal they had been
striving for four years to reach, but graduation meant also the parting
of the ways, and as the four chums looked back over their High School
life it seemed to them that they could never again have quite the good
times that they had enjoyed in one another's society.
"'We who are about to die salute you'" quoted Nora O'Malley, as the four
girls strolled home from school on the Friday preceding commencement.
"What a cheerful remark," laughed Grace Harlowe.
"Well, that's the way I feel, at any rate," declared Nora. "I can't bear
to think that next year we'll all be scattered to the four winds, or,
rather, the two winds, because Jessica and I will be together, and so
will you and Anne."
"Go to college with us, then," slyly tempted Grace.
"No," answered Nora decidedly. "I've set my heart on studying vocal
music. I have always said that I should go to a conservatory, and since
Eleanor's father has given me so much encouragement, I've made up my
mind to become a concert singer if possible. I'll stay a year in the
conservatory at least, and at the end of that time I'll know whether I
am justified in going on studying."
"It's fortunate that I am going to study on the piano and that we can be
at the same conservatory," said Jessica.
"And that Anne and I will be at the same college," added Grace, "if we
ever make up our minds what college we wish to enter."
"There is still plenty of time for that," said Anne. "I am glad that
scholarship doesn't stipulate as to what particular college--that is, if
I win it."
"You won't know that until a week from to-night," said Jessica. "What a
night that will be. This year there will be an extra feature, the
presentation of the gym. money."
"I am so proud of our class," exclaimed Grace, "but I do wish we had an
even two thousand dollars to give. We lack only twenty dollars. I wonder
if the class would care to make it up."
"Why couldn't the Phi Sigma Tau make it up as a parting gift to Oakdale
High School!" asked Nora. "That would be two dollars and a half apiece.
I am willing to do with that much less fuss on my graduating gown, if
the rest of you are."
"I am," said Grace.
"So am I," replied Jessica and Anne together.
"I am sure the other four girls will be of the same mind," said Grace.
"I'll see them to-morrow."
The four other members of the Phi Sigma Tau were duly interviewed and by
Monday of commencement week the twenty dollars had been added to the
fund deposited in Upton Bank.
The prophecy made by Jessica on class day at the end of their sophomore
year was about to be fulfilled to the letter, for the four chums had
been appointed to the very honors to which she had jestingly assigned
them two years before. Anne was chosen as class poet, and Jessica had
composed both the words and music of the class song. Grace was to
prophesy the futures of her various classmates, while Nora had been
detailed to write the class grinds.
"To-day is the day of days," exclaimed Grace to her mother on Tuesday,
as she smoothed out a tiny wrinkle in her class-day gown, which she
lovingly inspected for the fifth time before putting it on. It was a
pale blue marquisette embroidered in tiny daisies, and Grace declared it
to be far prettier than her graduating gown of white organdie trimmed
with fine lace.
"Nora has the dearest little pale green marquisette, mother," cried
Grace with enthusiasm, "and Jessica's gown is pink silk, while Anne has
a white silk muslin with violets scattered all over it. I've seen them
all, but I must say that I think mine is the nicest and you're a perfect
dear, mother, for having embroidered it for me," and, giving her mother
a tempestuous hug, Grace gathered her class-day finery in her arms and
rushed upstairs to dress for the afternoon that the senior class looked
forward to more than to graduation night itself.
The Phi Sigma Tau met in the senior locker-room for the last time and
proceeded to Assembly Hall in a body.
"How strange it seems to be going to Assembly Hall instead of the gym.
for class day," remarked Miriam Nesbit to Grace.
"Yes, doesn't it?" returned Grace. "But when we come lack here next year
as post-graduates, we'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we helped
a whole lot in getting the good old gym. ready for the next class, even
if we couldn't hold forth in it."
The regular class day programme was carried out with tremendous
enthusiasm. The girl chums were applauded to the echo for their capable
handling of the honors assigned them. Nora in particular rose to heights
of fame, her clever grinds provoking wholesale mirth.
"She must have made notes all year," whispered Anne to Jessica under
cover of a laugh which was occasioned by the story of one absentminded
senior who pushed her glasses up over her forehead, searched diligently
for them through the halls and locker-room, and, convinced that she had
lost them on the street, inserted an advertisement in one of the Oakdale
newspapers before going home that night.
"She did," replied Jessica. "She has always said that she wanted the job
of writing the grinds."
At the close of the exercises Grace delivered a spirited senior charge
which was ably answered by the junior president. The class song composed
by Jessica was sung, then graduates and audience joined in singing "Auld
Lang Syne." Then the air was rent with class yells, while the graduates
received the congratulations of their friends and then repaired to their
banquet.
Wednesday brought Hippy, Reddy and David and also Donald Earle to
Oakdale, while Tom Gray and Arnold Evans appeared on Thursday afternoon,
to the relief of their young friends.
"Better late than never," called Tom Gray as he and Arnold hurried off
the train to where David and his three friends stood eagerly scanning
the train for them.
"We thought it would be never," retorted Hippy. "We were about to
postpone commencement until some time next week, and order the flags at
half mast, but now things can proceed as usual."
"Hustle up, fellows," commanded David. "We're not the only ones who were
anxious. The girls are all over at our house. There'll be a
foregathering and a dinner there, and an after-gathering at your aunt's,
Tom. So pile into my car and I'll take you up Chapel Hill on the double
quick."
Inside of an hour the two young men were crossing the Nesbit's lawn and
making for the broad veranda where a bevy of pretty girls stood ready to
greet them.
"We are so glad you got here at last," cried Grace. "If you hadn't come
on that train you wouldn't have seen us graduate. The next train from
your part of the world doesn't get in until ten o'clock."
"We missed the early train and had to wait two hours," replied Tom, "but
now that we are here, you'll find that you can't drive us away with a
club."
"We shan't try to," said Nora. "Now, if you were Hippy--"
"Nothing could drive me from your presence," interrupted Hippy hastily,
"so don't try it. Let's change the subject. That word club has an ugly
sound. It makes me nervous."
"Never mind, Hippy," said Miriam. "Nora shall not tease you. I'll
protect you."
"Nora, go away, I am protected!" exclaimed Hippy, and, getting behind
Miriam, he peered forth at Nora with such a ludicrous expression that
she laughed, and immediately declared a truce by allowing him to sit on
the rustic seat beside her.
It was a memorable dinner. The girls in their dainty white graduating
gowns, their eyes alight with the joy of youth, and the young men with
their clean-cut, boyish faces made a picture that Mrs. Nesbit viewed
with a feeling of pleasure that was akin to pain.
The start for Assembly Hall was made at a little after seven, as the
girls were to join the senior class there, and proceed to the stage,
where the class was to sit in a body. Nearly every member of the class
carried flowers of some description that had been given to them by their
families and friends.
Grace and her chums were supremely happy in that their little social
world had turned out to do them honor. Mrs. Gray and Miss Nevin,
accompanied by Eleanor's father, were seated near the front with Mrs.
Gibson and the Southards, who had arrived at Hawk's Nest on the previous
day. Grace's father and mother, Judge Putnam and his sister, Mrs.
Nesbit, Nora's brothers and sister and Jessica's father were scattered
about through the house.
When the graduates took their places upon the stage, there was
tumultuous applause. To the citizens of Oakdale who had known the young
women from babyhood, the present class seemed the finest Oakdale High
School had yet turned out.
"Bless the dears," said Miss Thompson to Miss Tebbs, as the girls filed
past them and on to the stage. "They are without exception the most
brilliant lot of girls I have ever had charge of. But of them all there
is no one of them quite equal to Grace. She is the ideal type of all
that a High School girl should be, and when I say that I have paid her
the highest compliment in my power."
The slight difficulty that had arisen between Grace and the principal
during Grace's junior year had long since been adjusted by Eleanor, who
had gone to Miss Thompson with a frank confession of her transgressions
during her junior year. Miss Thompson had freely forgiven her and had
fully appreciated the sense of honor that had prompted the deed.
As the class was large, fifteen girls from the entire number had been
chosen to deliver essays and addresses. Among these were Anne, Eleanor,
Grace, Miriam and Nora.
"I'm just as well satisfied that I was not chosen," Jessica whispered to
Eva Allen, as Grace stepped forward to deliver the salutatory address.
"It's easy to see who is first in the hearts of Oakdale," returned Eva.
"Grace won't be able to begin this evening if they don't stop it."
The moment that Grace had risen to deliver her address the commotion
began, and it was not until Miss Thompson rose and smilingly held up her
hand for silence that the noisy reception accorded Grace died away.
Anne, as valedictorian, was only a trifle less warmly received, and her
eyes grew misty as she remembered how she had come to Oakdale poor and
unknown, and entirely without friends, until Grace had so nobly
championed her cause.
The bestowal of the freshman prize followed the graduates' addresses.
Then came the announcement of the winners of the scholarships. There
were two of these and every one of Anne's friends listened anxiously for
her name. They were not disappointed, for Anne's name was the first
called. She had won the Upton Scholarship of two hundred and fifty
dollars a year, at whatever college she should decide to enter.
After the scholarships had been disposed of, a representative of each of
the three lower classes in turn, beginning with the freshmen, presented
the gymnasium money to Miss Thompson.
The freshmen had collected over three hundred dollars, the sophomores
five hundred and the juniors six hundred and fifty dollars. Lastly,
Grace rose from her place among her class and presented Miss Thompson
with a check for the two thousand dollars, part of which had figured in
the limelight of publicity. And there was one girl in the row of
graduates whose heart beat uncomfortably faster for a moment as she
thought of how differently it might have all ended for her had it not
been for the fearless energy of Grace Harlowe.
It was over at last, the graduates received their diplomas and were
admonished as to their future careers by the president of the Board of
Education, whose speech concluded the exercises.
As they were leaving the stage, Jessica, whose eyes had been anxiously
searching the audience from the beginning of the exercises, gave a
little cry and hurrying down the steps, rushed straight into the arms of
a brown-eyed girl in a traveling gown who stood waiting at the foot of
the steps.
"Oh, you dear Mabel," cried Jessica joyously. "Where did you come from!"
"Mother and I didn't get in until almost nine o'clock, so we came here
at once," replied Mabel Allison. "Mother is over there. Come and see
her."
"I have been so disappointed," declared Jessica. "We hoped you would be
here for class day, and when you didn't come to-day I gave up in
despair."
"We intended to start last Friday, but mother was ill for a day or two,
and that delayed us. You know it is quite a journey from Denver here."
Jessica and Mabel quickly made their way to Mrs. Allison, and a moment
or two later were surrounded by the Phi Sigma Tau, and marched off in
triumph to Mrs. Gray, who was in the midst of a group of her intimate
friends.
After a great deal of handshaking and general greeting, the entire party
of guests, young and old, set off for Mrs. Gray's beautiful home.
The young people had elected to walk and strolled along through the
white moonlight, care free, the world before them.
The older members of the party who had ridden to the house were awaiting
them on the veranda. Soon after they all repaired to the dining room,
where a collation was served them at two long tables, at the close of
which toasts were in order, and every one was "drunk down" in the fruit
punch provided for the occasion.
When the gamut of toasting had been finally run, Mr. Harlowe arose and
said:
"I have been appointed as spokesman by a committee composed of the
fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters of the eight young women who are
the cause of all this celebration. The committee of which I speak may
not in any sense compare with that august body known as the Phi Sigma
Tau, but nevertheless it can boast of at least having held several
secret sessions, the result of those sessions being this:
"A long time ago I promised my daughter Grace that my graduation gift to
her should be a trip to Europe. Knowing what an addition to the trip the
society of her young friends would be, I interviewed those responsible
for the welfare of the Phi Sigma Tau, and it was decided that her
sorority should accompany her.
"As certain members of the aforesaid committee also feel entitled to
vacations, it is quite probable that the Phi Sigma Tau will sail with at
least a round dozen of chaperons. In fact, I have seriously considered
chartering a liner. Now I have done my duty and any one who wishes may
make remarks."
Then a perfect babble arose, and every one tried to express their
opinion at once. As for the Phi Sigma Tau, they were in the seventh
heaven of rapture.
Even Anne, who in spite of Mr. Harlowe's assurance, knew that for her
the trip was practically impossible, rejoiced for her friends' sake.
"Come here, Anne," commanded Mrs. Gray from the head of the table.
"Anne is my own dear child," said the old lady. "In the past four years
she has been not only my secretary, but a daughter as well. As her
foster mother, I claim the privilege of sending her to Europe. It shall
be my graduation gift to her."
"Three cheers for Mrs. Gray," proposed Hippy, rising, and they were
given with a will.
"And are all of you boys going, too?" Grace asked delightedly of Tom
Gray.
"Going? Well, I rather think so," he replied with emphasis.
"We are going all at once and with both feet foremost," declared Hippy.
"First we shall all be sea sick. After that we shall prowl about
Westminster Abbey and ruin our eyesight reading inscriptions on tombs.
After that we shall be arrested in France for our Franco-American
accent. We shall break our collar bones and bruise our shins doing
strenuous Alpine stunts, and we shall turn a disapproving eye upon
Russia and incidentally expose a few Nihilists. We shall fish in the
Grand Canal at Venice and wear out our shoes prancing about Florence on
a still hunt for old masters.
"Last, and by no means least, we shall sample everything to eat from
English muffins to Hungarian goulash."
"I knew he'd end with something like that," sniffed Nora contemptuously.
"I am surprised that he ended at all," laughed David.
Those who have followed Grace Harlowe through her four years at High
School, will hear from her again in college.
In "Grace Harlowe's First Year at Overton College" are set down
the eventful happenings of her freshman year, and her many friends will
find her to be the same generous, warm-hearted young woman who won their
admiration and respect during her High School days.
THE END.