The visitors streamed after them into the chapel. The seniors sat in their customary seats, the faculty and the men who were to receive honorary degrees on a platform that had been built at the altar. After they were seated, everything became a blur to Hugh. He hardly knew what was happening. He saw his father and mother sitting in the transept. He thought his mother was crying. He hoped not.... Some one prayed stupidly. There was a hymn.... What was it Cynthia had said? Oh, yes: "I can't marry a stranger." Well, they weren't exactly strangers.... He was darn glad he had gone to New York.... The president seemed to be saying over and over again, "By the power invested in me ..." and every time that he said it, Professor Blake would slip the loop of a colored hood over the head of a writer or a politician--and then it was happening all over again. Suddenly the class marshal motioned to the seniors to rise. They put on their mortar-boards. The president said once more, "By the power invested in me...." The seniors filed by the president, and the grand marshal handed each of them a roll of parchment tied with blue and orange ribbons. Hugh felt a strange thrill as he took his. He was graduated; he was a bachelor of science.... Back again to their seats. Some one was pronouncing benediction.... Music from the organ--marching out of the chapel, the surge of friends--his father shaking his hand, his mother's arms around his neck; she _was_ crying.... Graduation was over, and, with it Hugh's college days. Many of the seniors left at once. Hugh would have liked to go, too, but his father wanted to stay one more day in Haydensville. Besides, there was a final senior dance that night, and he thought that Hugh ought to attend it. Hugh did go to the dance, but somehow it brought him no pleasure. Although it was immensely decorous, it reminded him of Cynthia. He thought of her tenderly. The best little girl he'd ever met.... He danced on, religiously steering around the sisters and fiancees of his friends, but he could not enjoy the dance. Shortly after eleven he slipped out of the gymnasium and made one last tour of the campus. It was a moonlight night, and the campus was mysterious with shadows. The elms shook their leaves whisperingly; the tower of the chapel looked like magic tracery in the moonlight. He paused before Surrey Hall, now dark and empty. Good old Carl.... Carl and Cynthia? He wondered.... Pudge had roomed there, too. He passed on. Keller Hall, Cynthia and Norry.... "God, what a beast I was that night. How white Norry was--and Cynthia, too," Cynthia again. She'd always be a part of Sanford to him. On down to the lake to watch the silver path of the moonlight and the heavy reflections near the shore. Swimming, canoeing, skating--he and Cynthia in the woods beyond.... On back to the campus, around the buildings, every one of them filled with memories. Four years--four beautiful, wonderful years.... Good old Sanford....