Grace stepped forward and solemnly requested the girls to form a double line on each side of the opening.  The shorter girls were placed in the front rows.

“The sophomores will now sing their class song,” directed the master of ceremonies.

When the sophomores had finished, the juniors applauded vigorously.  The juniors’ song was next in order and the sophomores graciously returned the applause.

“I will now request the worthy junior members Olive Craig, Anne Green and Elsie Todd, to advance.  Honorable Assistant Master Harlowe, will you name your trusted, followers?”

Grace named Nora, Jessica and Marian Barber who came to her side with alacrity.

“During the brief space of time that we are obliged to absent ourselves, will every guest keep her roving eyes bent reverently on the ground and think about nothing.  It is well to fittingly prepare for what is to come.”

With this Julia marched her adherents down the field and around the corner of the Omnibus House.  She was followed by Grace and her band.  There was a chorus of giggles from the chosen helpers that was sternly checked by Julia.

Before their eyes stood a large, open paste-board box lined with the colors of both classes, in which reposed the Crosby hatchet, likened to a battle-ax by Julia.  Its handle was decorated with sophomore and junior ribbons, and around the head was a wreath of immortelles.  A disreputable looking sheaf of wheat lay across the end of the box.

There was a smothered laugh from Nora, whose quick brain had grasped the full significance of the thing.

“This is not an occasion for levity,” reprimanded Grace sternly.  “Laughing will not be tolerated.”

Three twisted ribbon handles of sophomore colors and three of junior ornamented either side of the box.  Each girl grasped a handle.

“We will proceed with the ceremony,” directed Julia.  “Lift up the box.”

This was easier said than done.  The handles were so close together that the girls hardly had room to step.  The journey was finally accomplished without any further mishap than the sliding off of the wheat sheaf.  This was hastily replaced by Jessica before its fall had been marked by the eagle eye of the master of ceremonies, who marched ahead with her assistant.

When the box had been carefully deposited at one side of the “grave,” Julia Crosby took her place beside it, and assuming a Daniel Webster attitude began her address.

“Honored juniors and sophomores.  We have met together to-day for a great and noble purpose.  We are about to take a step which will forever after be recorded among the doughty deeds of Oakdale High School.  It will go down in High School history as the glorious inspiration of a master mind.  We are going to unfurl the banner of peace and bury the hatchet.

“Since the early days of our class history, war, cruel war, has raged between the august bodies represented here to-day.  On this very field many moons ago the gallant sophomores advanced upon the, then, very fresh freshmen, but retreated in wild confusion.  It is therefore fitting that this should be the place chosen for the burial of all grudges, jealousies and unworthy emotions that formerly rent our breasts.”