From his vantage ground above, Kid looked down at the critics on the front seat and the tall, dark young man who had begun to speak. What a contrast the clear, ringing tones were to those of the mountain orators he had heard. For a moment he almost forgot to help Lalla and stood, his arms full of pine branches, listening intently to the oration. “Hurry, Kid,” reminded Lalla. “We’ve got to drag this litter out and just rush over to the chapel to see them form in line; there isn’t a minute to spare.” The musical peal of a bell and the rat-tat-tat of a drum decided the matter. In less than five minutes the two were crossing the campus in the rear of a number of stragglers who were hurrying to see the long procession begin its march. XVIII COMMENCEMENT TIME AT BENTVILLE TALITHA, from her room in the hall, saw the oxen toiling up the hill just as the chapel bell was ringing. She had rushed over from the Tabernacle to dress and get back before the lines were formed. In fifteen minutes the bell would begin to toll and the procession start. Her father and mother must not miss it. She opened the door and sped down the corridor to Gincy’s room. “Girls,” she called out, pounding on the door insistently, “the folks are almost here. Can’t one of you go down and bring them up to my room—your mother and my mother, Gincy? The rest can go on; you can tell them where to hitch.” Gincy needed no second bidding; she fairly flew downstairs and out of doors. At the side gate she stood for a moment and peered into the faces of the crowd. Presently she spied the objects of her search. The big red ox and the one with the white star on his forehead were coming her way. Sudie and Billy waved their hands, her father smiled, and Sam Coyle’s indolent figure seemed to grow in stature. Only the two sunbonneted women on the back seat appeared quiet and indifferent, but Gincy knew that inwardly they were far from it. “Talitha saw you from her room,” she said after the first greeting. “Jump right out and we’ll go up there; she’s rushing to get ready for the exercises and there are only a few minutes left.” Gincy hurried them through the crowd and into the dormitory hall, which was alive with girls greeting friends and showing them around through the various rooms. Her mother and Mrs. Coyle were allowed one peep into the office of the dean, and the big east parlour with its Colonial furniture and handsome pictures—gifts from wealthy New England people—then they were whisked upstairs and into Number 45 to receive a warm greeting from Talitha. “How do you like it?” she asked, seating them near the open windows. “You can look all around while Gincy’s hooking my dress.” Below, were the long, well-watered rows of the college garden—a wonderful sight to eyes accustomed to the small, dried-up mountain patch of vegetables. “’Tis a sightly place,” remarked Mrs. Gooch, her face alive with interest.