The glasses had been filled with punch, and they all rose to drink the toast. Frank bowed his thanks, feeling his face grow warm, despite the fact that he had seen much of the world and been greeted with applause and admiration in many places.
“My friends,” he said, “nothing could touch me more than such a tribute of esteem from a Yale man, one who has been an open and honorable foe in the past and is now just as enthusiastic in his friendship toward me. From the lips of any other man the compliment could not mean as much.”
“When Buck says a thing he means it,” declared Winnie, with a look of admiration toward her husband.
Then Merry made a brief speech, in which he referred to the days of toil and struggle and ambition at college—happy days, now nearly over for him.
“One of the greatest and proudest achievements,” he asserted, “something I prize above all things, is the fact that I have made here at Yale so many stanch, true friends.”
When dinner was over, they returned to the parlor, where Dashleigh tuned up his mandolin, and there were music and singing and a good time generally. Winnie sat down to the piano, and the others gathered round. The old college songs were sung one after another, Starbright joining in with his magnificent bass voice.
Frank had excused himself to Winnie, telling her why he was going to leave, and, in the midst of the singing, he went out quietly with Buck, who helped him on with his coat in the hall, gave him a hearty hand-clasp, and wished him luck in his search for Elsie.
As he was about to leave, Merry glanced back on the happy party in the parlor. He saw Starbright bending over Inza to look through some music, saw her smile up at him when he said something in a low tone; and, with this picture in his mind, he went out into the frosty December night.