ow accepted customs. Instead of marching two by two from the
seminary to the church, they had elected to proceed thither by royal
chariot. A haycart had been decked with green vines and bunches of
long-stemmed field daisies, those gay darlings of New England meadows.
Every inch of the rail, the body, even the spokes, all were twined with
yellow and green and white. There were two white horses, flower-trimmed
reins, and in the floral bower, seated on maple boughs, were the twelve
girls of the class, while the ten boys marched on either side of the
vehicle, wearing buttonhole bouquets of daisies, the class flower.

Rebecca drove, seated on a green-covered bench that looked not unlike a
throne. No girl clad in white muslin, no happy girl of seventeen, is
plain; and the twelve little country maids, from the vantage ground of
their setting, looked beautiful, as the June sunlight filtered down on
their uncovered heads, showing their bright eyes, their fresh cheeks,
their smiles, and their dimples.

Rebecca, Adam thought, as he took off his hat and saluted the pretty
panorama,--Rebecca, with her tall slenderness, her thoughtful brow, the
fire of young joy in her face, her fillet of dark braided hair, might
have been a young Muse or Sibyl; and the flowery hayrack, with its
freight of blooming girlhood, might have been painted as an allegorical
picture of The Morning of Life. It all passed him, as he stood under
the elms in the old village street where his mother had walked half a
century ago, and he was turning with the crowd towards the church when
he heard a little sob. Behind a hedge in the garden near where he was
standing was a forlorn person in white, whose neat nose, chestnut hair,
and blue eyes he seemed to know. He stepped inside the gate and said,
"What's wrong, Miss Emma?"

"Oh, is it you, Mr. Ladd? Rebecca wouldn't let me cry for fear of
spoiling my looks, but I must have just one chance before I go in. I
can be as homely as I like, after all, for I only have to sing with the
school; I'm not graduating, I'm just leaving! Not that I mind that;
it's only being separated from Rebecca that I never can stand!"

The two walked along together, Adam comforting the disconsolate Emma
Jane, until they reached the old meeting-house where the Commencement
exercises were always held. The interior, with its decorations of
yellow, green, and white, was crowded, the air hot and breathless, the
essays and songs and recitations pre