“No, I gave that to her later on--I had it in my pocket then. I didn’t want her to find it herself; it always makes you jump so to see your own name written out, when you’re not looking for it. Then she sat down in a chair near me and stared at the fire. I asked her if she wanted me to go away; and she said, no, she was glad I was there. We talked a little--I couldn’t say much; my position was queer you know--not what she thought it was. But it didn’t seem wrong as long as I stayed just because she wanted me to, and I hated to spoil it by saying things that couldn’t ring true. She talked about Hugh in such a quiet wonderful way that every now and then I found myself wondering if she really knew. Sometimes she doubted it herself, I think, for she left me twice and went slowly downstairs as if she wanted to make sure. When daylight came, she went in and lay down on his bed. I put out the lamps and wrote a note saying where my room was if she wanted to send for me. “At breakfast I got hold of Bradley and Sears Wolcott and Billy and four or five other fellows, and told them they simply had to go round there at noon, and that some of them would have to go into the station with me. They didn’t see any particular reason for it at first; most of them were grinding for the exams, and Sears had an engagement to play court tennis and lunch at the B. A. A. He said he didn’t see why the man’s friends weren’t enough without dragging out a lot of heelers who’d never heard of him, let alone never having met him. He wasn’t ‘going to be any damned hired crocodile!’ he said. You see, they couldn’t understand that if they didn’t go, there probably wouldn’t be anybody there but the preacher and Mrs. Finley, and those horrible men with the black satin ties and cotton gloves who carry you in and out when there’s no one else round to do it. But they all came at last--even Sears, grumbling till he got inside the gate. Nate brought three or four fellows round from his club, and an armful of red and white roses ‘from the class,’ he told Mrs. Wellington. It was a nice little lie. I was surprised that Natey thought of it. The Regent came, and Mr. Barrows, the college secretary, and poor old Miss Shedd, Wellington’s washwoman. She was awfully cut up, poor old thing, and made it as bad as possible for everybody. That was about all, I think. Plummer, the college preacher, was simple and manly; Heaven knows he couldn’t very well have been anything else under the circumstances. And then we had that interminable drive again, back to Boston.