“I’m really thankful this is the last,” sighed Celia, coming over with her mother and Just to join the party assembling for the final great occasion on the Churchill’s porch.  “Evelyn, how dear you look in that forget-me-not frock!  And that hat is a dream.”

“Well, people, we must be off.  When it’s all over, let’s come out here on the porch in the dark and luxuriate.”  Charlotte drew a long breath as she spoke.

“That will be a rest,” agreed Celia, with a private pinch of Evelyn’s arm, and Lucy and Randolph giggled.

The younger two had been let into the secret only within the last twenty-four hours, fears being entertained that they might not be safe repositories of mystery.  Celia gave them a warning look as she passed them, and kept them away from Charlotte during the car ride into the city.

“How well the dear boy looks!” whispered his family, one to another, as the class filed into the University chapel in cap and gown.  They were in a front row, where Jeff could look down at them when he should come upon the stage for his diploma.

There was not the slightest possibility of his looking either there or anywhere else.  His oration had been delivered on class day, and his remaining part in the exercises of graduation was to listen respectfully to the distinguished gentlemen who took part, and to watch with interested eyes the conferring of many higher degrees before it was time for himself and his class to receive the sonorous Latin address which ended by bestowing upon them the title of Bachelor of Arts.

It was a proud moment, nevertheless, and many hearts beat high when it came.  Down in that row near the front father and mother, brothers and sisters and friends, watched a certain erect figure as if there were no others worth looking at—­as all over the hall other affectionate eyes watched other youthful, manly forms.

Jeff had worked hard for his degree, being not by nature a student, like his elder brother Lansing, but fonder of active, outdoor life than of books.  He had been incited to deeds of valour in the classroom only by the grim determination not to disgrace the family traditions or the scholarly ancestors to whom he had often been pointed back.

“Thank heaven it’s over!” exulted Jeff, with his classmates, when, after the last triumphant speech of the evening, the audience was dismissed to the strains of a rejoicing orchestra.

“Say, fellows, I’m going to bolt.  Hullo, Just!  Ask Evelyn for me if she won’t go home flying with me in the Houghton auto—­Carolyn’s just sent me word.”

“That will be just the thing,” whispered Celia to Evelyn, when the message came.  “Go with him, but don’t let him stop at the Houghtons’.  Whisper it to Carolyn, and see that he’s safely on the porch with you when we get there.”

Evelyn nodded and disappeared with Just, who took her to his brother.

“Now we’re off,” murmured Jeff, as he and Evelyn followed Carolyn and her brother out through a side entrance.  “What a night!  What a moon!  My, but it feels good to be out in the open air after that pow-wow in there!”