“It is hard,” said the class prophet, “to forecast the future for our Lilian. I seem to see her standing before a large audience, holding them spellbound by the cadences of her beautiful voice.” At this point, Jane turned to look at Lilian behind her, and Lilian was busy with her guitar. “Then, upon the shelves of a public library I see a handsomely bound volume of poems, with the name of Lilian North inscribed.—Ah, what is this picture that comes so rapidly upon the screen? A stately home upon the Hudson. But the film is torn here and the figures are indistinct.
“The screen shows Hilary Lancaster doing deeds of mercy. First, I see a schoolroom and Hilary surrounded by a group of scholars. Now I see her in the slums, holding a wee baby and bending over a sick mother. She wears no deaconess bonnet and I can not tell whether she is a home missionary, a minister’s wife, or merely a ‘friend to man,’ as here in school.”
Betty was seen as a bride, going away with a handsome naval officer.
Cathalina carried a degree from Columbia and was dean of a woman’s college. Pauline galloped about a large ranch, and was finally seen to ride off into the distance with a picturesque cowboy. Jane’s imagination was equal to the emergency of providing a future of thrilling interest for everybody, and the audience enjoyed her fancies. The orchestra burst forth into a mad medley of popular music at the close of the prophecy, while the rest scattered, after being reminded of the reception and ceremony of bestowing the society diplomas upon the seniors in the society halls.
“Things move rapidly this afternoon,” said Aunt Hilary.
“Yes, Auntie,” replied Hilary, “but there isn’t much to do at ‘society.’ We have about half an hour before that begins and I think that I’d better go and see if they need me to help get ready. Will you come? The girls will probably begin to come in pretty soon.”
“Indeed I will. I get as much entertainment from watching the girls as from any of the exercises.”
When they entered the Whittier Hall, Isabel was placing a little bundle of neat, white diplomas, tied with the society colors, on the corner of the piano, their new baby grand. Virgie was placing a step-ladder near one of the windows, preparatory to fixing up some of the decorations which had fallen down.
“Come and taste this,” Virgie called one of the juniors who was adding a little fruit juice to what looked like a very cooling drink in a large glass bowl.
“I’ll put this up,” Hilary offered. “You’ll have to add more ice later, so have it strong enough.”