Ethel Morton at Chautauqua Part 34

"How many _will_ be here?"

"About a hundred and fifty or two hundred. That's a small fraction of the cla.s.s but they come from so many different places that they are fairly representative of the whole cla.s.s."

"The rooms were crowded at the reception yesterday afternoon and this afternoon and every trolley is bringing more."

In honor of the 1914 cla.s.s Helen wore a rose-covered dress at the C. L.

S. C. reception at the hotel in the evening. She carried dozens of trays of lemonade and was a tired girl when the chimes, belated for the occasion, at last rang out their warning. With the rest of the family she was ready in plenty of time, however, for an early start to see the C. L. S. C. procession march into the Amphitheatre for the Baccalaureate sermon. The Hanc.o.c.ks and Dorothy and her mother took their places in the auditorium to see the cla.s.ses march in, but Roger and Helen and the Ethels drifted along beside the troop of Readers, discovering Mrs.

Emerson in the cla.s.s of 1908 and Mrs. Morton and her father and Dr.

Hanc.o.c.k with the d.i.c.kensians.

In the afternoon the young people followed again, this time to the Hall of Philosophy where they stood on the edge and heard the Chancellor address words of inspiration and comfort to the graduates. Once more they stood at a distance when night brought the hour for the Vigil of the Cla.s.s of '14. Athenian Lights flared about the Hall and flung tree shadows and the bending shapes of men and women against the black earth.

Under the cla.s.sic roof of the temple gathered the cla.s.smates met here at Chautauqua after four years of work done separately. Here they united in thoughts of the good the Past had brought and the Happiness that the future had in store.

"Why do they call it a Vigil?" asked Ethel Blue.

Ethel Brown had gone home with her grandmother but her cousin could not resist the call of a name that sounded mysterious to her, and she had come with Helen and Roger.

"Didn't you ever read about the young squires watching over their armor on the night before they received the honor of knighthood?" inquired Helen, who was the "family authority on history and antiquities,"

according to Roger. "They were left alone in the chapel of the palace where the ceremony was to take place, and there they prayed that they might live worthy lives and do no wrong and always help the poor and the distressed and always honor women."

"We think we are serious nowadays but I don't believe there are many fellows who think as seriously as that about their life work," observed Roger.

The young people had no part in the joys of the 1914 Cla.s.s breakfast and "frivol" beyond laughing uproariously at the account of it which they received later from the elders who were there. In the evening of Tuesday, however, the Club came out in force. At that time the whole interest of the grounds was centred around Alumni Hall. The building itself was ablaze with light, every cla.s.s receiving in its own room except the d.i.c.kens Cla.s.s, which had so many representatives that it made use of the large room at the top of the house.

Outside, the grounds between Alumni Hall and the Hall of Philosophy were bright with colored lanterns. In the Hall the band played the jolliest of music in one corner and the remainder of the s.p.a.ce was occupied by small tables crowded with people.

It was here that the United Service Club proved its usefulness. As long as there was any one to wait on its members ran to and fro carrying trays and making change, and when there were no more guests they themselves fell to and consumed all that was left.

"I never object to eating ice cream for a Veranda Fund or any other reason," confessed James solemnly and Roger nodded a grave a.s.sent.

Before they went on duty at the Hall, the Club proceeded in a body to pay their respects to the graduating cla.s.s. There were so many 1914's that they extended all around the large room and before them an unending line of people pa.s.sed, shaking hands and offering congratulations.

Mrs. Morton stood between her father and Dr. Hanc.o.c.k before a bust of Bishop Vincent that gazed benevolently at the procession as it wound past the corner. The children claimed her as a "sweet girl graduate" and Roger greeted his grandfather as if he were only an older student in his own school.

"You youngsters needn't be feeling so humorous," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dr. Hanc.o.c.k.

"The C. L. S. C. will catch you at some time in your life if it has to wait until you are seventy, so you might as well read the Course as soon as you are out of school, and get it out of the way."

Behind the Mortons and Hanc.o.c.ks came Dorothy, her thin little face beaming with delight at the meeting that was coming.

"This is my mother, Mrs. Morton. Mother, this is Ethel Brown's mother and Ethel Blue's aunt."

The hands of the two women met in a long clasp, and they gazed into each other's eyes with instant liking.

"You have been kindness itself to my little girl," murmured Mrs. Smith.

"We can never forget her efficiency and helpfulness when Father was ill," returned Mrs. Morton; "and, if you'll allow me to say so, my mother, Mrs. Emerson, is a great admirer of yours."

"Have I met your mother?"

"You've been teaching her to make wonderful embroideries."

"Is _that_ Mrs. Emerson your mother? I've grown very fond of her in her visits to the Arcade veranda."

"We must know each other better, if you will," smiled Mrs. Morton as the mother and daughter pa.s.sed on to greet others.

"Dorothy looks so much like the Ethels that it startles me sometimes,"

remarked Mr. Emerson, looking after them before some one else claimed his hand.

"Girls of that age all wear their hair in the same fas.h.i.+on so they look like those paper dolls that we used to make in strings out of one piece of paper and put over the electric lights in the nursery."

"Perhaps it is the hair, but their features certainly are alike."

"Poor little Dorothy has a wistful expression that our children don't have, I am glad to say. I'm afraid she and her mother have had a hard time."

"I'm sure we must have shaken hands with at least a hundred thousand Chautauquans," groaned Dr. Hanc.o.c.k; "don't you think we might go over to the Hall of Philosophy and get the United Service Club to minister to our inner men?"

"I believe we've done our duty now; the crowd seems to be lessening; let's escape," and the two gentlemen escorted Mrs. Morton under the lanterns to the fire-lit temple where the members of the United Service Club hailed them, installed them at tables, and did their best to refresh them.

"Will you put my arm in a splint, Doctor?" asked Mr. Emerson, rubbing his shoulder ruefully.

"If you'll do mine. We'll go about like wounded twins!"

At six o'clock the next morning d.i.c.ky was stirring.

"Helen, get out my white thuit, pleathe, pleathe, pleathe," he pleaded impatiently.

"Your white suit? What for?" asked Helen drowsily. "This isn't Sunday."

"It's Recognition Day. Don't you remember? Grandfather and Mother are going to graduate. I'm in the Boyth Guard of Honor. Pleathe hurry."

The Ethels were not much later than d.i.c.ky in their preparations, for they were to help the young ladies who arranged the baskets and made the wreaths for the Flower Girls. The Mortons were too tall to join the ranks themselves, and they were envious of Dorothy, whose lesser height admitted her to the band, although this would be her last year.

It was a busy scene when the girls reached the top of the hill beside the Post Office. Huge hampers of flowers lay beneath a table of planks stretched on trestles. Around it were grouped a dozen of the girls of the Vacation Club weaving wreaths for the heads of the little girls who soon began to arrive, and filling small baskets for them to carry. Some of the children were so small that their nurses had to come with them.

They were put first in the long line of twos, while Dorothy and Della Watkins, who were the tallest of all, were the very last. Every girl had a white dress and they made a charming picture which drew a crowd of grown-ups to watch them.

Near by was the Boys' Guard of Honor, d.i.c.ky among them. Their uniform was a white suit and black stockings, and Helen and one or two other daughters of members of the 1914 Cla.s.s were pinning on with a rose their shoulder sashes of Eton blue, the cla.s.s color. Each boy carried a white pennant lettered in blue, d.i.c.kENS. They were a fine, manly looking lot of youngsters and they, too, drew compliments from the onlookers. Roger was marshaling them.

These groups were far from being the only people on the square. Banner boys were bringing the standards from Alumni Hall and setting them up as a rallying point for the C. L. S. C. cla.s.ses. James Hanc.o.c.k carried the flag of a cla.s.s whose representatives all happened to be women and not strong enough to lift the standard with its heavy pole. Tom Watkins carried the banner of Grandmother Morton's cla.s.s, the 1908's, because his mother belonged to it. Mrs. Emerson did not march with the 1908's because she was to pa.s.s through the Golden Gate after the graduating cla.s.s.

Back and forth went the Inst.i.tution band, escorting one division and another of the mustering throng. All the undergraduates wore oak leaves to distinguish them from the graduates. The hoot of an owl rose from a group of 1913's, who, because they were the Athene Cla.s.s, had taken the sacred bird of the G.o.ddess of wisdom for their emblem. Other cla.s.ses were choosing cheer leaders and practicing their yells with greater or less success.

"The year numbers on these banners don't give you much idea of the ages of the people under it!" laughed Tom Watkins to Helen as she pa.s.sed him.

"There's a 20-year old graduate in 1914 and a 78-year old," smiled Helen. "Where are the 1914's?" she asked, looking about her.

"They don't march with the rest; they gather at the Golden Gate at the lower end of St. Paul's Grove," explained Tom. "The best thing for you to do if you want to see all the different parts of the procession is to watch the start-off here and then rush down the hill to the Chancellor's cottage and see him fall into the line with the Marshal of the Day as his escort. Then go to the Grove and see the cla.s.s pa.s.s through the Gate and up the steps of the Hall of Philosophy, and then hang around the outskirts until they come out and march to the Amphitheatre for the address."

Helen followed Tom's advice, waving her hand to Dorothy and Della among the Flower Girls, kodaking d.i.c.ky in the Guard of Honor, and standing with the Hanc.o.c.ks while her mother and grandmother and Dr. Hanc.o.c.k, followed in a later group by Mrs. Emerson, pa.s.sed through the Gate. The cla.s.s walked between the Flower Girls strewing blossoms under their feet, beneath the arches symbolizing History, Literature, Science and Faith, between the lines of the choir singing a "Hail" of welcome, and up the steps at whose top waited the Chancellor.