In honor of the 1914 class Helen wore a rose-covered dress at the C. L. S. C. reception at the hotel in the evening. She carried dozens of trays of lemonade and was a tired girl when the chimes, belated for the occasion, at last rang out their warning. With the rest of the family she was ready in plenty of time, however, for an early start to see the C. L. S. C. procession march into the Amphitheatre for the Baccalaureate sermon. The Hancocks and Dorothy and her mother took their places in the auditorium to see the classes march in, but Roger and Helen and the Ethels drifted along beside the troop of Readers, discovering Mrs. Emerson in the class of 1908 and Mrs. Morton and her father and Dr. Hancock with the Dickensians.
In the afternoon the young people followed again, this time to the Hall of Philosophy where they stood on the edge and heard the Chancellor address words of inspiration and comfort to the graduates. Once more they stood at a distance when night brought the hour for the Vigil of the Class of '14. Athenian Lights flared about the Hall and flung tree shadows and the bending shapes of men and women against the black earth. Under the classic roof of the temple gathered the classmates met here at Chautauqua after four years of work done separately. Here they united in thoughts of the good the Past had brought and the Happiness that the future had in store.
"Why do they call it a Vigil?" asked Ethel Blue.
Ethel Brown had gone home with her grandmother but her cousin could not resist the call of a name that sounded mysterious to her, and she had come with Helen and Roger.
"Didn't you ever read about the young squires watching over their armor on the night before they received the honor of knighthood?" inquired Helen, who was the "family authority on history and antiquities," according to Roger. "They were left alone in the chapel of the palace where the ceremony was to take place, and there they prayed that they might live worthy lives and do no wrong and always help the poor and the distressed and always honor women."
"We think we are serious nowadays but I don't believe there are many fellows who think as seriously as that about their life work," observed Roger.
The young people had no part in the joys of the 1914 Class breakfast and "frivol" beyond laughing uproariously at the account of it which they received later from the elders who were there. In the evening of Tuesday, however, the Club came out in force. At that time the whole interest of the grounds was centred around Alumni Hall. The building itself was ablaze with light, every class receiving in its own room except the Dickens Class, which had so many representatives that it made use of the large room at the top of the house.
Outside, the grounds between Alumni Hall and the Hall of Philosophy were bright with colored lanterns. In the Hall the band played the jolliest of music in one corner and the remainder of the space was occupied by small tables crowded with people.
It was here that the United Service Club proved its usefulness. As long as there was any one to wait on its members ran to and fro carrying trays and making change, and when there were no more guests they themselves fell to and consumed all that was left.
"I never object to eating ice cream for a Veranda Fund or any other reason," confessed James solemnly and Roger nodded a grave assent.