?"

"Reddy didn't know it until yesterday," faltered Jessica. "His father
has taken over a large business there and he wants Reddy to manage it
for him. Reddy's mother doesn't want to live in Chicago, so Mr. Brooks
wants Reddy to go."

"It's the real parting of the ways," said Grace softly to Anne.

Anne nodded. "Still, if we had our choice as to whether we would like to
go back and live over our past or go on, I am sure we'd choose to go
on," she said thoughtfully. "Don't you think so, Grace!"

"Of course we would," agreed Grace cheerfully. "Good gracious, girls!"
she exclaimed in sudden consternation. "Whose familiar figures are those
coming across the field? It must be later than I thought."

Nora's and Jessica's mourning heads bobbed up from Grace's shoulders
with simultaneous alacrity.

"Hippy!" gasped Nora. "Do I look as though I'd been crying? I wouldn't
have him know it for the world."

"Reddy!" recognized Jessica. "Are my eyes a sight?"

"Also David and Tom," added Anne. "No, children, you haven't wept enough
to permanently disfigure your charming faces. If the boys had not
appeared we might now be weeping in a melancholy row. I had no idea that
Jessica's secret was to be a positive tragedy."

"Neither had I," responded Grace soberly, laying an affectionate hand on
Jessica's arm.

There was no time for further remarks on the subject, for the four young
men were crossing the last field in record time. As they neared the row
of young women Hippy Wingate picked up his coat and pirouetted toward
them, a wide smile on his round face, as he chanted gayly in a high
voice:

"Children go, to and fro
In a merry pretty row;
Faces bright, all alight,
'Tis a happy, happy sight.
Swiftly turning round and round,
Do not look upon the ground;
Follow me, full of glee,
Singing merrily."

With each line of the song Hippy executed a most astonishing figure,
ending on "merrily" with a funny pas-seul that turned the sorrow of the
lately disconsolate audience to laughter.

"How did you like that?" he inquired affably, as he landed directly in
front of the steps. "Shall I sing the chorus now or would you prefer to
hear it later."

"Later, by all means," flung back Nora.

"As you please. As you please," returned Hippy with a careless wave of
his hand. "I am not chary of my art. I ask for but one recompense."

"There he goes," groaned Dave Nesbit.

"I'm not going,"