Promptly at three o'clock the proceedings began, and Dorothy, her duties over for the present, found a corner that had been reserved for her on the platform. From her seat she had a very good view of the hall. How pretty it looked, she thought, with its decorations of flags and flowers, and its throng of interested faces! In the fifth row, not very far away, she could see her father with Mrs. Clarke, and dear Aunt Barbara. Dr. and Mrs. Longton were also present, and the Vicar of Hurford and his wife. The Helms were beaming at her from the back row. "All my best friends are here to-day," said Dorothy to herself. The first part of the programme was musical; glees were sung by picked members of the singing classes, and a few solos, both vocal and instrumental, were given. Alison, who had been taking violin lessons, played in a quartette and acquitted herself very creditably, in spite of a sudden panic of bashfulness. She came and sat beside Dorothy as soon as her part was finished. "I'm so thankful it's over," she whispered. "I do so hate doing anything in public. I could see Mother looking at me all the time; I believe she was as nervous as myself. My hand shook so dreadfully at first, I could hardly hold my bow." "Never mind, it sounded quite right," replied Dorothy. "Everybody applauded, especially Father." "Yes, I saw Uncle David clapping hard. When are the exam. lists to be read? Have you heard?" "Not until after the interval, so Miss Pitman says. They're to come with the speeches." The recitations passed off well, Grace Russell, the only member of the Upper Fourth who took part in them, distinguishing herself particularly. "Grace is A1 at languages," commented Alison. "She gets that tripping French accent most beautifully." At four o'clock there was an interval, and the audience adjourned for tea and to see the exhibits. Alison's collection of pressed flowers was among those on view in the museum, and she bore off her particular circle of friends to look at it. "It's got 'Highly Commended'," she remarked gleefully. "Uncle David, that's the very piece of rock rose you climbed up the cliff to pick for me--don't you remember it? Miss Sherbourne, you sent me that catchfly from Hurford. I got most of my flowers at Latchworth, and just a few from Beechfield. Do you recognize this? It's the water plantain. The innkeeper at Longacre brought me a big bunch of it just before I left. Wasn't it kind of him? I keep it as a specimen, and as a memento of my dipping as well." Alison spoke brightly. She had not been told how serious her collapse had been after her rescue from the river; and she little knew what an important share the water plantain had played in bringing about the happy reunion between her uncle and cousin.