From this moment for the rest of the day, Martine not only forgot that she was tired, but her recent troubles seemed altogether of the past. In spite of the great crowd, a number of her Chicago friends found Martine in the corner where Mrs. Redmond made her sit. It is true that she had not even a word with Hazen Andrews, her special host, who, like most Seniors, was thoroughly occupied looking after relatives and the girls of the older set, to which Martine did not belong. She had not many friends among the Seniors, though two or three in their flowing gowns, mortar-boards in their hands, came up to speak to her or Mrs. Redmond. "Isn't it fun?" cried Martine to the latter. "It's like taking a journey somewhere, and running upon all kinds of people that one hasn't seen for a long time--only one seldom sees so many persons one knows on a single journey." Promptly at four o'clock Mrs. Redmond and Martine met Amy and a number of her friends at Fritz' rooms, and together they all went over to the Memorial delta where the statue exercises were held. "It's dazzling!" cried Martine, looking about at the tiers and tiers of gayly dressed girls and women; "only more beautiful than a flower garden, because it's more alive, this garden of people. I wish we could see Elinor here." "My dear little girl, this is a great pleasure," said a voice at Martine's elbow, and turning to the left, to her great surprise, Martine found her neighbor to be a Chicago friend of her father. "Didn't know I was an old Harvard man! Well, the West does take the starch of culture out of us. I'm going down there among the graduates after a while. I'm holding these seats for my niece and a friend, who thought they could never find it unless I was here as a landmark. They failed to meet me, as people always fail on Class Day. Let me see, Lucian doesn't graduate this year?" "No, he isn't in Cambridge; he has gone to join father." "Yes, yes, of course; this has been a hard year for your father." The tears came to Martine's eyes. "Bless my soul, child, don't cry. It's coming out all right. Everyone must have some business cares, and up to the present your father has been remarkably successful. But money isn't everything!" "That's just it," responded Martine. "The money doesn't matter at all--to me. But we are afraid that father is breaking down--that's why Lucian has gone to South America; and we can't hear for some time just how things are." "Well, well! I didn't realize that things were going so badly--at least you must think they are going badly, or you wouldn't look downcast. A bright girl like you should always look on the bright side of things. But so far as your father's business is concerned, I may tell you that it is likely to take a turn for the better--at present I am not at liberty to say more. It's this news about his health that troubles me. Let me know what you hear from Lucian."