"I know who's improved most, though. I hope--Oh! I hope she'll get it!"

And when the announcement was made she did! Said the Bishop, who conferred the diplomas and prizes:

"The Improvement Gold Medal, the highest honor our faculty can bestow, is this year awarded to--" Here the speaker paused just long enough to whet the curiosity of those eager girls--"To the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard. Will she kindly advance and receive it?"

Never was "honor girl" more deeply moved, surprised, and grateful than this once so haughty "Peer," now humble at heart as the meekest "Charity" present, and never such deafening cheers and hand-claps greeted the recipient of that coveted prize.

Other lesser prizes followed: to Winifred's surprise, she had gained "Distinction" in physical culture; Florita in mathematics; and a new "Distinction" was announced for that year--"To Miss Dorothy Calvert for uniform courtesy," and one that she valued less: a gold star for advancement in music.

"Two prizes, Dolly Doodles! You ought to should give poor Gracie one, you should. 'Tis not nice for one girl to have two, but my Auntie Prin, she couldn't help it. She told the Bishop you'd always been a beautiful behaver, an' she must. Now, it's all over, and I'm glad.

I'm so tired and hungry. Come to banquet."

After all it was the same as most Commencements the world over, with its joys and its antic.i.p.ations. What of the latter's realization? In Dorothy's case at least the telling thereof is not for this time or place; but all is duly related in a new story and a new volume which tells of "Dorothy's Triumph." But there was that year one innovation at the banquet, that farewell feast of all the school together. For the company was but just seated when there stalked majestically into the great hall an old negro in livery.

Pulling his forelock respectfully toward the Bishop, bowing and sc.r.a.ping his foot as his Miss Betty had long ago taught him, he marched straight to his Miss Dorothy's chair and took his stand behind it. He took no notice when turning her head she flashed a rather frightened smile in his direction, nor did either of them speak. But she glanced over to the head of the table and received an approving nod from her beloved Bishop; whose own heart felt a thrill of happy memory as he beheld this scene. So, away back in boyhood's days, in the dining-room at beautiful Bellevieu, had this same white-headed "boy" served those he had loved and lost.

To him it was pathetic; to other observers, a novelty and curiosity; but to Dorothy and Ephraim themselves, after that first minute, a mere matter of course. Looking over that great table, the girl's face grew thoughtful. She had come among all these a stranger; she was leaving them a friend with everyone. The days that were coming might be happy, might be sorry; yet she was not alone. Old Ephraim stood behind her, faithful to the end; and out in the hall waited James Barlow, also faithful and full of the courage of young life and great ambition.

No, she was not alone, whatever came or had come; and, after all, it was sweet to be going back to the familiar places and the familiar friends. So, the banquet at its end, by a nod from the Bishop, she drew her violin from under the table and rising in her place played sweetly and joyfully that forever well loved melody of "Home, Sweet Home."

One by one, or in groups, the company melted away. Each to her new life of joy or sorrow or as general, both intermingled.