"Dear girls, cease your whining! What do those pieces of sheepskin reposing somewhere in the mess on yonder bureau stand for? Remember what that man said yesterday--how we mustn't think this Commencement is the end of anything--it's just the beginning. Why, this new world that's been born out of the frightful war is full of work for our trained minds and hands! We mustn't look back for a minute--we must look ahead!" Thrilled by her own words she leveled a reproachful glance upon her two companions. Claire sighed. "I never could get the inspiration from things that you always seem to, Anne. I guess I'm not built right! I couldn't make myself listen to _half_ that man said. I can't think of anything right now but what a job it's going to be getting everything into that trunk. Mother was heartless not to stay over and do it for me!" "Never mind, Claire, we'll help you. Of course you and I can't see things in the big, grand way that Anne can because she's found herself and we haven't. But when our work _does_ come we'll do it! It may not be off in Siberia or China or Africa--like Anne's--but, wherever it is, I guess our Alma Mater won't be ashamed of us!" The girl's eyes softened with the passionate tenderness of the new graduate for her University. Back in the freshman days a curious chance had drawn these three together. Then, for four years, years of hopeful effort, aspirations and youthful problems, the currents of their young lives had intermingled closely; now each must go its way. The moment brought the pang that comes to youth at such a parting. Their bonds were something closer than friendship. Behind them were months of the sweetest intimacy that youth can know--ahead were the lives they must live apart out in a world that cared nothing for college ideals and inspirations, where each must find her "work" and do it, so that "her Alma Mater might be proud!" Statistics, even in a university, would be dull if, now and then, Fate did not play a trick with them. Upon the roster of the class of Nineteen-nineteen had been entered two names: "Anne Leavitt, Los Angeles, California; Anne Leavitt, New York City." When one thinks that in the great world war there was an army of, approximately, seventy-five thousand Smiths alone, and a whole division of John Smiths, one need not marvel that two Anne Leavitts came that October day to the old University. Doubtless, in those first trying days, they passed one another often and did not know, but a week later, when Professor Nevin in First Year French, read slowly from his little leather book: "Miss Anne Leavitt," two girls jumped to their feet and in astonishment, faced one another. "_I_ am Anne Leavitt!" spoke the larger of the two. "And _I_ am Anne Leavitt, too!" laughed the smaller.