re called up by those words is sufficiently definite
and demands no amplification. To them, is no prettier sight possible
than the broad campus dotted with buildings, and the knots of
daintily-dressed girls moving slowly to and fro along the winding paths.
The Meadow City always puts on her most festal array in honor of the
occasion; the very heavens seem to watch for that week, and to provide
for it the finest moon of the whole summer.

Baccalaureate was over, and, early Monday evening, groups were already
gathering on the campus at the rear of College Hall, eager to secure
comfortable places for the glee club concert. It was one of the charming
pictures of the year, that concert, the cluster of girls on the steps
facing the long rows of well-filled benches below. Beyond the benches,
and extending far across the grass to the very steps of the old Dewey
House, was a moving, shifting crowd, changing in form and color, as the
brightly-dressed girls came and went, like the varying slides of a
kaleidoscope. Back of the glee club, again, the open windows of the
reading-room were filled with faces of old graduates who knew the place,
and who chose this point of vantage either to protect their gowns and
their elderly necks from the dampness outside, or to use their position
facing the crowd to discover returning classmates whom they had missed
in the throng.

"There's the class president," one of them said to a friend who had
arrived, only that afternoon.

"Which?"

"That tall girl in pale green at the left. She's in the fourth, fifth,
sixth row; and a tall, gray-haired man is with her, and a young man the
other side."

"Looking this way now?"

"Yes. I don't see anything so remarkable about her; but they say she's
one of the most popular girls they've ever had here."

"That is saying a good deal," her companion answered loyally, as she
raised her lorgnette.

"They wanted her for ivy poet, but she couldn't be everything. She's
class poet, though, and was Portia in the dramatics, Saturday night."

"What's her name?"

"McAlister. Theodora McAlister. She looks it, too; but these soulless
girls all call her Teddy."

"McAlister? That is the name of the girl who made such a record in
basket ball, when I was up here, last winter. They had a song in her
honor."

"Probably it's the same one. My cousin says she is very all-round. All
the under-class girls adore her, and they say she'll be heard from, some
day. Did you sa