Boys of the Central: A High-School Story

by I. T. Thurston

The Commencement exercises were held in the evening in one of the largest opera-houses.

Never had the decorations on such an occasion been so beautiful as this year, for never before had so many outside friends lent a helping hand. There was Gordon’s father, so proud that the old high school was regaining its old reputation, and so proud and happy because of the share his boy had had in bringing this about; and there was Reed’s father, who was but too happy to spend some of his abundant means to make the occasion a memorable one, not only for his own boy’s sake, but also for the sake of Stanley Clark, whom he had taken right into his big heart. And, by the way, he had carried matters with a high hand, and when he made arrangements for his boy at Yale, he had made arrangements for Stanley Clark to go with him, and no refusals would he listen to for a moment. Clark had been obliged to give in, and accept the generous provision, though he did it with a mental vow that he would pay it all back one of these days.

Then there was Mr. Chase, who was so relieved and delighted at the improvement in his ward, that he, too, insisted on “lending a hand” at these Commencement arrangements. And so it happened that no graduating class had ever had such beautiful decorations, such perfect stacks of flowers, or such fine music as graced this occasion.

And it was Clark who, much against his will, delivered the oration for the class. He did his best to get out of it, declaring that it should be given by Gordon, or Hamlin or St. John; but it was Clark himself that his classmates now delighted to honor, and it seemed as if they could not do enough to make up to him for what was past.

His story had spread through the school, and he was the unanimous choice of the senior class, so there was no escape for him, and he was obliged to be the orator of the evening.

He performed his duty well, as was testified by the applause that followed, and so many floral tributes were sent to the stage, that Reed laughingly told him that he’d have to hire an express wagon to “tote ’em home.”

But the boy’s glad eyes sought out the spot where his mother sat with a tall man beside her, a man whose strong, noble face bore the marks of the sufferings of the past years.

When it was whispered about that Clark’s father was there, every boy was wild to see him, and not one who looked into his face that night but felt that he was a father to be proud of.

The exercises were over at last. The address to the graduating class had been made by an eminent lawyer. The diplomas had been received with more or less grace and ease, or more or less shyness and awkwardness.

“Rosy” had distinguished himself by darting out of the line, as the boys passed forward to receive their diplomas, and picking up Grace Harlan’s handkerchief, which he presented to her with his most fascinating smile.