Betty promised joyously and hurried back to the campus. Last days are strenuous for junior ushers, especially when they are making their own dresses and have in addition a particular friend in the senior class to do all the last pleasant things for.
Mary Brooks had never seemed so dear and amusing as she did now that they were going to lose her. Marion Lawrence was going too, and to her utter consternation Madeline Ayres discovered at the last moment that she also could graduate, if she chose to.
“Gracious, but I was scared,” she explained inelegantly, coming into Betty’s room one night just after ten. “When Miss Stuart said ‘You have credits enough to take your degree, Miss Ayres; I thought you understood that your junior rank was merely nominal, due to your irregular preparation,’ I gasped out, ‘But I don’t have to take it now, do I, Miss Stuart?’ She looked at me as if she thought I must be suddenly stricken with idiocy, and said she supposed not, but that she had never before had any one object to graduating too soon. I told her I thought plenty of people objected fast enough, but that I was the first one who had had a good excuse for telling her so. Then she laughed and we got quite chummy over the joys of being a Harding girl as long as possible.”
“And they won’t make you go?” asked Betty anxiously.
Madeline shook her head. “Of course I could have come back anyway for graduate work, but I didn’t want to do that. I want to be in 19— forever.”
“Isn’t it funny how much that counts?” said Betty, turning on her light. “I don’t care if the night-watchman does see it,” she explained. “I can’t stand it not to show you my dress. I finished it this morning and it’s all pressed and ready to put on.”
Madeline inspected the dress critically. “It’s lovely, Betty. Does it win the contest?”
Betty laughed. “We couldn’t settle that,” she said. “Babbie’s is a lot prettier, but it cost seven cents over the seven dollars, so we refuse to get her the candy. Mine is next, but Babbie won’t pay up because we admit that hers is prettier. And now Lotta Gardner’s mother is sick and she can’t stay to commencement. So I don’t know as it was much use making Babbie give up that dream of a dress.”
“Of course it was,” declared Madeline positively. “You know very well that Lotta wasn’t the only girl who was going to be made uncomfortable. Besides, the principle is right, and that’s what really counts. The girls are stirred up about lessening other expenses and it will make a lot of difference next year.”
“Well, I hope so. I hope they don’t think it was a big fuss over nothing,” said Betty, stifling a yawn. “Oh, Madeline, I’m so happy to think that my last examination is over and there’s only fun ahead. Don’t you wish now that you were an usher?”