In the general confusion of congratulations that followed, Jean had caught sight of her mother, slipping unobtrusively away. She had not expected her mother to seek her out, but there was something so small, so self-effacing in the figure hurrying to take up again the endless round of duties which the graduation had momentarily interrupted, that Jean's eyes had filled with tears and she had escaped from the chattering crowds as quickly as possible.
Now it was all over. The deserted campus lay silent in the late afternoon sun, and the empty buildings rested from the ceaseless chatter. So alive was the Future, waiting for the signal to start, that when the clock, hidden in the woodbine of the Library tower, struck four, Jean jumped to her feet, shook her shoulders as if freeing them from the clutch of the years behind, and turned away.
"It may be peaceful—I suppose it is. But so's the grave."
As she came into the cool dimness of the Girls' Rest Hall, Patricia Farnsworth rose from a hammock.
"Well, for the love of Mike, where have you been? I looked everywhere, until I couldn't stand another minute."
"If you looked as violently as you appear to be doing this instant, I don't wonder you didn't find me. Library—off the main line of travel—only safe place to-day."
"Never thought of it. Gee, but I'm all in. I wouldn't graduate twice for a thousand dollars."
Jean threw her cap and gown on a couch and stretched beside them.
"Well, twice wouldn't be so bad, if you did it just for yourself. But when you insist on doing it for the whole class, Pat, of course——"
"Oh, shut up. Somebody's got to do the dirty work. Fond parents loose their moorings and drift worse than sheep."