CHAPTER XVIII
THE GOING OUT OF 19—
Next morning came the really important part of commencement,—the getting of your diploma, or, to speak accurately, the getting of somebody’s else diploma, which you could exchange for your own later.
“Let’s stand in a big circle,” suggested Madeline Ayres, “and pass the diplomas round until each one comes to its owner.”
It wasn’t surprising that Eleanor Watson, with her newly acquired duties as toastmistress, should keep getting outside the circle to consult various toasters and members of the supper committee; but it did seem as if Betty Wales might stay quietly in her place. So thought the girls who had noticed that Carlotta Young, the last girl in the line that went up for diplomas had not received any. Carlotta was a “prod”; it was only because she came at the end of the alphabet that she was left out, but thanks to Betty’s fly-away fashion of running off to speak to some junior ushers, and then calling the Blunderbuss, whose mother wanted to see her a minute, nobody could find out positively who it was that had been “flunked out” of 19—.
The next excitement took place when the class, strolling over to the Students’ Building to have luncheon with the alumnæ—why, they were alumnæ themselves now!—met a bright-eyed, brown-haired little girl, walking with a tall young man whose fine face was tanned as brown as an Indian’s.
“Don’t you know me, 19—?” called the little girl gaily.
“Why, it can’t be—it is T. Reed!” cried Helen Adams, rushing forward.
“And her Filipino,” shrieked Bob Parker wildly.