George Ingram had hurried to Northampton to see Gertrude graduate.  She met him at the station, and took his hand warmly in both of hers.  George had brought from New York a box of white roses for her room, and a big bunch of the star-flower, the pretty English blue forget-me-not.  He also had in his valise a tiny case of which he made no mention to anybody.

Hundreds of young women in white walked across the campus and were massed on the college steps for their Ivy Exercise.  Never before was George so proud of Gertrude.  She and Nellie Nelson, afterwards Mrs. Eastlake, had been chosen by the class for their beauty and sweet ways to head the procession of the white-gowned graduates.  The evening of Class-day is a fitting close of the gay festivities at Smith College.

At the evening reception, George was introduced to many of Gertrude’s class-mates, and some of her intimate friends whispered, “Mr. Ingram and Gertrude must be engaged!  What a handsome pair they will make.”  George offered his arm to Gertrude, and they walked about the campus under the classical trees that glowed with hundreds of colored paper lanterns; everywhere a throng of pretty happy girls with their relatives and friends.  Music by the glee clubs on the college steps, and refreshments, closed pleasantly Gertrude’s last night of college life on the beautiful Connecticut.

She went to bed tired, but very happy.  That evening her mother and sister had left for New York, and in the morning she and George were to spend the day at Mt.  Holyoke.  Twice in the night, Gertrude awoke, looked at her watch, and longed for daylight, and then went back to dream of flowers and music.

While she slept, warm southern breezes spread a coverlet of silver gray mist over the homes of energy and thrift up and down the Connecticut Valley.  In the morning when Gertrude opened the blinds, and saw the fog against the window panes and over the valley, she exclaimed, “It is too bad, I so wanted George to drive to Mt.  Holyoke to-day, and see nature at her best!  I hoped this would be the happiest day of my life.”

It was a quarter to 8 o’clock when a pair of spirited black roadsters, hitched to a buckboard, were driven in front of the hotel for George Ingram.  As he appeared on the porch he looked every inch a gentleman.  He was twenty-five years old, had received a practical education, and was filling acceptably the important position of assistant chemist of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., to which, six months before, he had been promoted.  He had fine physique, dark hair and eyes, and a military bearing that made him the natural commander of men.  His firmness, tempered with great kindness of heart, always won for him the respect of both men and women.

He handled the team with skill for he was a member of the driving club at home.  At a college window sat Gertrude who was eagerly watching for him, and now she ran down the gravel walk with a sunny face, greeting her manly lover with such sweet voice and grace, that a college girl in passing whispered to her companion.  “Look, Bessie, there are true and handsome lovers such as we read about in novels, but seldom meet.”