“I hope that you are, Isabel, many times. But if you come to New York, as you must, I hope that Phil will be there to play much better than I can.”
Betty and Cathalina stood for a moment after the others had gone and looked out over the dancing sparkles which the sunlight made upon the water. Then Betty turned away. “I’ll carry away all the memories, Cathalina,—picnics, boat rides, the wreck and the hydroplane. Do you not think that I have had a varied career for one so young?”
Cathalina laughed at Betty’s affected tone. “Yes, I should say that if variety is the spice of life, you have been having it. Let’s hurry a little. I thought I heard the gong for lunch. I’m glad it is cool today. Everything looks so fresh and pretty. I think that there was a little shower early this morning.”
“Haven’t you the class history this afternoon, Cathalina?”
“Yes, haven’t you seen me racking my brains over it?”
“No; I remember your saying something about it, but I wondered what had become of it.”
“I wanted it to be new to the girls, so haven’t asked them many questions, except the girls that have been here since the freshman academy days.”
“Jane Mills has the class prophecy, hasn’t she?”
“I think so. There were some changes and I was not at the last class meeting.”
The last class exercises, for the senior collegiates of that year, were held on the front campus, and the other classes, as well as the guests, were invited. Girls sat or stood in groups to hear the program. The front steps of Greycliff Hall served as platform, and the members of the mandolin, uke’ and guitar club sat on the upper steps and the porch. The spray from the fountain blew in a fine mist under the shadows of the great trees and across the sunny stretches between them.