Seeing that the body of the chapel was filled, Utterly climbed one of the two broad staircases which led to the rear gallery, and from there looked down upon the bonnets of the ladies and upon the flower-decked platform on which faculty and graduates were now taking their places. There were two other occupants of the gallery—at the organ a handsome boy, who was evidently a senior, since his black gown lay on the bench beside him, and the same tall gentleman redolent of drugs who had breakfasted at the hotel.
The boy was playing vigorously. His touch was clear and true, and Utterly, who possessed, along with many other serviceable and unserviceable bits of knowledge, an acquaintance with organ music, listened with surprise to his spirited and accurate work. His eyes then passed from one member of the faculty to another, resting longest upon President Lister, short, dark-skinned, and Jewish in appearance, and upon a tall, slender, smooth-shaven man whom he guessed to be the Professor of English. In these two, he decided, after contemplating them and their colleagues, was concentrated the intellectual strength of Walton College.
When the processional was finished, the player slid off the organ bench, slipped into his gown, straightened his shoulders, whispered a "Hello!" at the doctor, and left the gallery. A much smaller boy emerged, red-faced, from the interior of the organ, and to him Utterly signaled a demand for a programme.
During the long prayer, he read the list of graduates. The first name upon which his eye fell, that of Eleanor Bent, startled him so that he almost exclaimed aloud, and for a few moments he continued to stare at it as though he were not quite certain that he read aright. But the name was unmistakable, as well as the young woman's part on the programme—"Eleanor Bent, Valedictory." Utterly slid along the bench toward the doctor, who was much surprised to find him close by when he lifted his head after the prayer. There was a strange, excited look in the doctor's eyes. At the programme which Utterly held out to him he glared almost savagely. He did not like Utterly's looks; he was an effeminate dandy.
Utterly had drawn a heavy line under Eleanor Bent's name, and he pointed to it now with his pencil.
"Is that a young lady?" he whispered rather stupidly.
The doctor looked at him with unfriendly astonishment.
"Naturally!"
"I mean—is there another person of that name in the town?—an aunt, perhaps, or—"
"No," said Dr. Green, "there isn't."