They sang as they had never sung before. It did not matter what were the words of the song. "They stole his wallet, they stole his staff," had nothing in it that was especially apropos of college friendships or the sadness of farewell, but the way they sang it, with the long-drawn "Ramski Ho," meant something. It was so full of association. And no one noticed this time whether the man behind him was on a key of his own. His only thought was, "When shall I hear Billy's good old bark again after to-night?" And when Sam's and when Ed's and Big Hill's and Little Hill's and where would be the fellow a year from now whose shoulder was next to his own. During the past month or two the class of Ninety Blank had been drawn very close together by the thought of what was coming. They had never been very seriously cliqued up, but what there was of dissension was forgotten, and they were now one solid crowd. Fellows who had never anything to do with each other before except to say, "Hello, there, Ray!" and "Hello, Harry!" had taken to strolling around the campus together arm-in-arm talking about what they were going to do next year and wondering why they had never happened to see more of each other in the past, and regretting that there were to be no opportunities for doing so in the future. But during the excitement of Commencement week, with the crowds of old grads. and of girls and the big baseball game and the concerts and Class Day full of its exhibition farewells in the church and around the cannon, and the teas and the big dance on Tuesday night, and the many other things that filled up every moment of every day and night--together with the responsibility of seeing to the entertainment of their guests--all this, and the feeling of importance at being the cause of so much color and sound had in a measure distracted their minds from the thought of what it all meant. But now all that was changed. The last of the display ceremonies was finished. The class had their diplomas. It was all over. The rollicking old grads. with their many reunions and their old-fashioned cheers and their funny songs had left for the city and business again for a year. The girls and their mothers and their parasols had vanished like the chinese lanterns among the trees. The campus was almost deserted, and except for their own voices, was as still as a cemetery. Each man on the steps was realizing as he never had done before how glad had been those four years, and how startlingly fast they had sped by, and how much more these friends of his meant to him than he had ever imagined friends could mean.