The students were highly amused, and even the surgeon, who ordinarily never betrayed amusement in the amphitheatre, showed a suspicious twitching about the mouth, and finally, the entreaties continuing, said to me, “Dr. Arnold, I think perhaps it will quiet him if you do as he requests.” There was nothing to do but comply. I had to step up to the table and hold the big baby’s hand, to the delight of the students--especially to one Breynton, one of the house-staff over at the Dispensary, who, having been a victim of some of my practical jokes, rejoiced at my discomfiture. When Fenton’s term of service ended, and he went to practise in a neighbouring city, he left the rest of us disconsolate. We four had had such good times together. He was a fine, manly fellow, very kind to the patients, conscientious, impatient of pretense--it was he who had lectured me about my prudishness. He had a keen sense of humour and a fine sense of honour; and the friendship begun in those hospital days has been one of the most satisfactory in my life--a real _camaraderie_. We did not take so kindly to his successor, Dr. James--a genial but presuming youth, harder to keep in place, more daring, more flirtatious. It wasn’t long before James was teaching me to dance in the amphitheatre, after we would get the instruments put away, he whistling the music. I soon saw that that would not do. But we often played and sang together; he had a fine tenor voice. Dr. Thorndike’s term expiring shortly after she took her degree, and no one applying through that summer, there were then but three of us to do the work previously shared by four. Our Commencement was held in Tremont Temple, the whole University participating--an immense affair, very impersonal, it meant far less to me than our modest little Commencement of Academy days. Coming, too, in the midst of hospital work, it was but an event in the day. Still, I remember a thrill, as of something achieved, when, filing across the platform with hundreds of other students, I received my diploma from President Warren. Each department of the University sat in a body; each student stepped upon the big platform as his name was called out; his diploma was handed him; and the generous applause from his own student-body sounded very good, as (if a “medic”) he walked down the steps on the other side, a full-fledged M.D. Most of the graduates were immediately confronted by the vexed question of where to “locate,” but those of us in the hospital had six months’ grace before that bugbear stared us in the face.