The Union Republican., October 21, 1904, Image 6

About The Union Republican. (Georgetown, Del.) 189?-19??

Image provided by: University of Delaware Library, Newark, DE

                
PRESCOTT'S
CLASS DAY
tmummmuminuK
The last lantern in the thousands
which festooned the campus had
just been lighted as Prescott entered
near Grays and passed slowly
through the yard. The fairy scene
gave him a painful thrill of re
miniscence.
"Same old crowd," he reflected,
observing carelessly the gay gowns
of the women and the varied attire
of their escorts. "Same old crowd,
only this cap and gown business is
rather new to me. Same old crowd
and the same old time, I suppose,
for all the rest of them. What kids
the seniors appear to be."
He sighed a little bitterly as he
moved on toward Thayer. He
of the few men in evening
dress, and he had worn that under
protest, feeling it to be still the
senior's right.
Prescott had not attended Class
Day since his own. ten years be
fore, and he felt strangely old and
out of place. A young cousin was
doing the honors today, and he
had come home to please the lad
and to see, also, how it might feel
to renew old associations.
He had conscientiously gone
through the program and found
himself tonight a bit sick at heart.
"I didn't know I was growing
old," he muttered, "but the thrill,
has certainly departed from this
sort of thing—I suppose because
I'm not in it."
The exercises at the Statue had
seemed strangely tame compared
with his own memories of the
valiant scrimmage in tramp-like
attire about the old Tree. What a
handful of crimson blossoms he had
won, and they had all gone to her.
But she had not cared for them,
though she thanked him sweetly.
He knew the fate of those wilted
flowers.
Where had she drifted to in all
these years? Had Williams made a
good husband, he wondered. He
would really like to know.
Prescott suddenly became aware
of the fact that he was in front of
Thayer, and he paused to look
up at a row of familiar windows.
They were crowded
with
maidens in rain-bow-tinted gowns,
and the murmur of happy
floated down to him.
Prescott set his teeth and passed
on. "I'll go over to Memorial,"
he thought, "and then take a look
in at the 'Gym,' and after that I
think I may be excused; this busi
ness is wearing and painful."
Memorial was filled with its
usual throng of gay pleasure seek
ers. and the strains of a dteamy
waltz floated down from
balcony.
Prescott pushed his way through
the crowd and made for the end of
the hall. There was a certain dim
out-of-door corridor which lie re
membered w«l aud he meant to
have a look at it. Ten years before
lie had been sitting there with a
girl, with Her. She had promised
to join the party i
later to listen to the Glee Chib.
He had planned how his Class
Day should be crowned. There
a special seat reserved for her, and
he had intended sharing it, but—
why recall all tile dismal business?
Another man had entered the
paradise before it was secured to
Prescott's exclusive rights. Wil
liams had appeared at the entrance
of that dim corridor, most evidently
in search of some one, and she had
arisen with entirely too great
show ol eagerness.
"I promised him a dance," she
had said, and Williams, hearing
her voice, had come forward.
Prescott had scowled and remarked
that it was nearly nine; but his
classmate had persisted; lie would
bring Miss Richards to Thayer in
in due season, lie promised; and
Prescott had turned away foolishly
lull t and angry.
Of course site had arrived too
late to secure lier
course, Williams stayed to receive
lier smiles, and of course, Pres
cott's great day ended i
humiliation.
voices
the
it
his room
.
a
seat, and, of
anger and
lie felt his heart stir with a sick
ening sense of failure ns he entered
the old corridor to-night, «
a few moments, he did not
that any one else was there. Then,
as his eyes became accustomed to
the dim light, he
men :
and, for
notice
do
' promenading
the distance
1 maidens
and a vacent seat in the very spot
where he had sat with Her
upon
that eventful evening. At least he
thought it was vacant until he had
almost reached it; then he noticed
a lonely feminine figure in one
shadowy corner.
Preicott paused. Thatv as where
She had sat, and, if he were not
dreaming, there She was sitting
now!
The slender figure, the dropping
head aud the hand upon which it
rested—the whole careless, familiar
pose came back to him with a viv
idness that hurt.
"Mildred!'' He spoke the name
involuntarily, and the girl started
and looked up. At that moment a
pot of red lire set burning outside
threw its searching light into the
corridor aad^ caught them both in
its rosy glare*. Prescott saw the
face clearly and came nearer with
outstretched hands.
"It is you!" he said. "For a
moment I thought I had seen a
gost."
She looked into his eyes with a
wonder equal to his own. "Dick!"
she faltered. "Dick Prescott."
Kora moment they both stood
gazing at one another in pure as
tonishment, which gradually gave
way to embarassment.
"I was just thinking—" she be
gan, as she withdrew her hand
"So was I," he agreed, and then
paused, for suddenly he remember
ed, and new made joy was rapidly
transformed to pain.
He dreW»h-imself up a little stiff
ly.
"How's Williams?" he asked.
"Is he here to night?"
The red light had died out and
he could no longer see her face,
but he felt the tremor in her voice
as she answered him. .
"Ned Williams?" she quired.
"Yes, he is here, I hope, and—
and well."
There was a pause. "Did you
not know that I broke my engage
ment to him—years ago?" she
ventured, at length, constrainedly.
"What!" cried Prescott, his head
whirling.
"It was a mistake," she said,
cooly. "I found that out very soon
—and he, too, of course. It was a
piece of .youthful folly which we
must both regret and try to put
away forever."
"Well, this is news," exclaimed
Prescott. His knees felt weak, and
he dropped into the seat near her.
"How is it I never heard, I
wonder. ' '
His companion smiled.
"Did you ever take the trouble
to inquire about your old friends?"
she askd^^i little bitterly.
"I was a fool," muttered the
man beside lier, "a mad young fool.
And there isnt any one else? You
are still Mildred Richards?"
"Yes," was the constrained re
plied, -^iiite an old maid, Nell
says.'il_
Tlieij
into the
"It ii?
X-.:i! up and looked out
;tty sight, isn't it?"
she said,-*fghtly, "even if it doesn't
thrill
heat ma'
came here to rest while Nell is tak
ing care of her partners."
Prescott felt a decided chill, hut
lie was no longer a fool.
"Did you?" he replied; "1 came
here to remember and to make my
self miserable. The facts are kinder
to me than I deserve.
lej^ie way it used to. The
iïfe «iiiy bead ache, and I
No response; so he followed her
Lead.
"Is Nell old enough for Class
Day festivities?" he asked.
Miss R^rhards smiled. "She is
twenty and the devoted friend of
live seniors. I am here merly as
chaperon. Mamma is ill. I have
not been in Cambridge before for a
good many years."
"Nor I," l e Haid. "I should not
have come to-Jay bi.t f r the whim
of a young cousin. Being here, I
resolved to do the whole thing and
see how it felt after ten years."
"It is the same, yet not the
same>" mused the young woman
beside him."
"It is the same .vith a decided
difference," declared Prescott; "at
least it was. Why arn't you danc
ing?" he asked,suddenly.
She shook her head. "Have you
forgotten how to do sums in addi
tion since you lell college?" she
asked, gcntlv. "I believe you just
said that it was ten years since you
were graduated. Our dancing days
are over ain't they?"
"I am learning how to do sums
in subtraction at the present mom
ent," said Prescott, happily. "I
am ten years younger than I was a
quarter of an hour ago. Those past
profitless years of home sick exile
were only an uncomfortable dream,
it seems. This is my Class Day,
you know. I'm twenty-four, and a
most ridiculously happy fellow if
you'll only come out and dance
with me."
She laughingly shook her head.
"Where is my cap and gown?" she
asked.
ed
of
'I I
' Cap and gown!" he cried,
scornfully, "-what do I want of such
toggery? See, I am wearing evening
clothes—the di
upon their Class Dav. You know
. Will you come?
She still shook her head. "I do
not dare," she said. "Here in the
shadow it is well enough for you to
do sums in subtraction; but out
there it would be different. I am
not twenty now, and this isn't my
first Class Day.''
He bent nearer, scanning her
face in the dim light.
"I don't believe it," he said.
sacred to seniors
that as well as
a
a
a
a
a
we
I
knew you the minute I saw you,
and you are wearing the same drab
muslin—"
"Drab! It was a lovely pearl
colored; and this isn't muslin; it's
dinity. But it is gray, she concluded
pleased, no doubt, at his tangled
memory.
Prescott laughed. "A man can't
be expected to match colors; but I
still swear that you are twenty.
Come!"
She arose reluctantly and went
out with him into the hall as the
orchestra began to play again.
"Our waltz!" Prescott exclaim
ed, and the next moment they were
a part of the dreamily moving mass.
Her eyes were downcast, but his
rested with open satisfaction upon
her face.
It certainly showed no signs of
age. She was a little paler, perhaps;
the corners of the mouth had a
slight downward droop; the
thoughtful lines had deepened here
and there; the grace of maturity
had replaced the promise of girl
hood. But Prescott did not notice
details. He was chiefly concious of
the fact that she
with him and that he was ecstati
cally happy. A sudden mad deter
ation had seized him. He would
live his Class Day evening over
again—live it as he pleased.
As the music ceased they paused
at last, and the young woman ven
tured to glance up at her partner.
Her face was flushed with the ex
ercise and her eyes were merry.
"I thought I had forgotten
how," she said, somewhat breath
lessly.
"Forgotten at twenty!" he re
plied, glad of the chance to look in
lier eyes, but they fell suddenly be
fore his glance.
"Let us go out in the yard," he
said; "where is your wrap?"
"Oh, I mustn't," said his com
panion quickly. "Nell will be look
ing for me.
I told her I would stay there in
the corridor. Let us go back. ' '
Prescott frowned. "Isn't there
some kindly chaperon to whom
you can turn over your duties?"
he asked. "There must be."
His manner was compelling, and
the girl who had spoiled his Class
Day ten years before seemed unable
to resist the appeal. She at last be
thought her of a comfortable matron
waltzing
who with a cheerful resignation
was sitting at the end of the hall
awaiting the pleasure of three fair
daughters, and to her she gave
over the charge of the popular Nell.
One girl, more or less to wait for
made little diffeienee, and the ladv
nodded cordially with a sidelong
glance at Miss Richards' com
manding partner.
"Not that it matters much," Mil
dred said, as they moved away. "I
haven't seen Nell for an hour, and
perhaps I shall not until it is time
to go."
Outside the building, Prescott
drew her arm through his. "I
observe that the girl of to-day pre
fers to walk alone," he remarked,
"but this isn't to-day, and I don't
want to lose you in the crowd."
The moon had arisen to crown
the festival, and its soft light
beamed gently through the tall
elms.
For the first time the young
woman turned her gaze to her
companion's face and studied it
gravely. He knew that she was
looking at him and was happy in
the thought, and he did not shrink
from the quiet scrutiny. It was
certainly her right. He wondered
if she found him greatly changed.
He believed that he was getting
little gray about the temples, and
doubtless his face had lost its boy
ish good looks but he breathed a
quick prayer of gratitude that at
least sue need read nothing base
there. Strange that she had asked
no question as to the years since he
ltad seen her last. It never occur
red to him that she had. perhaps,
kept more closely in touch with his
life than he had with her.
"Well ? he said, at last, smiling
happily down upon her, "are you
ready to pass judgement upon the
prodical ?"
"Don't! she cried softly, "I
never thought that you know I
didn't."
"Is it all right?" he asked.
"Will you 'play with me,' as the
children say? You—pardon me,
hut you played against me
other Class Day, you know.
that
, . Will
yon pay np now by making tins
one jolly .
His mirth was contagious, and
she laughed back in sudden sur
render.
"Yes," she said, impulsively,
"I'll play. Let's be children again
just for to-night."
.So he drew her hand closer
within his arm, and they started on
their adventures. First they peep
ed in at the "Gym." but it was too
crowded for comfort, then they
went over to the yard and strolled
about in the crowd, two of the
most light-hearted in it. Through
windows they caught glimpses
of busy waiters clearing away the
remnants of spreads that had been;
he
other darkened windows were filled
with laughing girls; the bands
were playing; the festoons of lan
terns swung slightly in the gentle
breeze. The moon smiled affably
upon the pretty scenes.
Prescott and the lady who clung
to his arm found a seat in the
farther portion of the yard, and
there they talked comfortably of
many things, or
delicious silences.
"Really, there's nothing like
Class Day, after all," Prescott
declared at last, and his companion
nodded.
"Yet it seemed very dull this
afternoon," she observed. "Just
walking round and round and
round, with tobacco smoke in the
air and a ceaseless murmui of
voices. Tin* lights and music and
all make a great difference."
"So they do" said Prescott,
smiling. Then he looked at his
watch. "Nearly nine," he said,
"we must go out where we can
hear the concert. ' '
As they moved down toward
Thayer, Prescott had a sudden in
spiration. He looked up at the
old windows a moment, and then
he led his companion boldly in at
the doorway.
"Where are you going?" she
asked, surprised.
"To the old room, of course,"
he said, briefly, "this is our Class
Day, you know. "
They had reached the door of
the room, and Miss Richards drew
back. "There
rested in long,
* people here,"
she said, "Do you know them ?"
Prescott turned laughing eyes
upon her. "Know the people in
my own room ?" He said. "Wait
here a moment and I'll show
you."
He walked straight to a certain
window where a senior was sitting
with a pretty girl in pink. P
cott laid his hand on the young
man's shoulder. "Pardon me;"
he began, "I haven't the pleasure
of your acquaintance, but I recog
nize you as a man and a brother
and a son of old Harvard. I want
to ask a favor. May I borrow the
use of this window seat for the
space of half an hour ?"
The Senior frowned a little,
feeling that this handsome grad
uate was making sport of him.
Prescott smiled. "This used to
be my room, you see," he went on,
by way of explanation, "and I
niiteed keeping a very special en
gagement in this window-seat just
teilft'ears ago to-night. Well, mir
ac;rabusly, I have the chance to try
m;/ luck again. The"—with a
glaaice at the pretty girl in pink—
"tlve case is desperate
wouldn't ask the favor. I think
you understand."
The senior arose quickly, a sym
pathetic grin lighting his coun
tenance.
said, "w
Pray accept my good
The pretty girl smiled shyly,
also, and they moved away.
A few moments later, the
" Don't mention it," he
were about to leave,
islies."
young
woman who should have occupied
that corner ten years before was
leaning back among the cushion
of the window seat, and the man
who was re living his Class Day
sat comfortably ensconded in the
opposite corner congratulating him
self on his quick wit and diplomacy.
The gass was turned low, but
lie could still see the furnishings of
the room.
s
"Same old place," he murmured;
"same fool tilings around. Oh, col
lege life is great after all!"
The young woman who leaned
against the cushions sighed softly
"Would you like to go back?" slit
asked, a little wistfullv.
"Yes,'
lie said, "t r perrafs,
after all, it would be better tu
forward—that is—"
"There comes the Banjo Club,"
she interrupted him; 'T wish it
were tiit- Glee Club ten years ago—
hut I didn't rnjoy it then. Do you
know why?"
"Didn't they sing well?" she
asked of him, innocently.
I'reston leaned forward a little
that he might better see her
face. I.ittle soft t< mil ils of liai'
stirred about lief foreln i d, and ill
long hslies touched lier cheeks
There were other people in the
next window, hut their own mur
muring voices made them deal to
go
sweet
his words
'Will you let me tell you all I
remember about it?" lie asked, and
his voice had lost the bantering
tone. It was grave and low. and
his eyes rested steadily on her face.
"Yes," she said, softly.
"Y
may remember," he be
gan, "I asked you to c
and listen to the Glte Club with
. I had saved this seat for you.
and because the old room meant so
much to me, I wanted to tell you,
just here, of all the love a boy's
heart could hold; I hoped that in
this place you would make my Class
Day perfect."
His voice faltered a little, hut
she did not move or raise her eyes.
"Well, you know how it ended,"
he went on. "You sent me off at
Memorial and came here so late I
here
could not in decency hold the place
for you; and Williams came with
you—"
"Oh, don't,''murmured the girl,
painfully.
"I must," said Prescott, firmly.
"You came with Williams and
never noticed my disappointment
or the glance I gave you when the
fellows sang that grand old thing
that ends in the Wedding'March—
I forget the name. You had done
with me I saw, and when you
went away you left on the floor
there the flowers I had risked my
neck to get for you."
She put out her hand with a low
hurt cry, but he went on relent
lessly.
"When I was alone I lighted
some paper in the grate over yon
der and threw the flowers in the
blaze. They burned up as quickly
as my poor Jittle hopes had done.
So ended my great day. After that
I soon heard of your engagement
and then—I went away."
Pie paused a moment, and when
he went on the painful note had
vanished from his voice. "Well, I
have told you of my ups and
downs in all the years since then,"
he said. "What I am most con
cerned with now is the present
moment. I came back to renew
my youth it seems. Thanks to you
I have spent an evening that was
almost perfectly happy." He
smiled at her contentedly. "You
have made me quite believe in the
game we have been playing," he
said? "I know now that a man
need not grow old if he is happy."
He leaned against the easing
and looked out across the yard.
The flickering gas jets on Hol
wortliy had mistaken the year
they celebrated, he was sure.
Then he bent toward the silent
figure opposite, "Mildred," he
said, "must it end tonight for us?
Why can't we stay young, you
and I?"
She had drawn off her jdoves,
and one white hand Jay on tl* sill.
He covered it with his
"Mildred!" he said, again.
She lifted her eyes to his, sind he
"Mildred!" he said, again.
She lifted her eyes to his, sind he
saw that they were wet.
"Can you forgive it—that, other
day?" she faltered. "I did not
know—you cared so. That, was
why I made the mistake about him
—about Ned Williams, I ]Écau. I
tried to—like him. But—1%anted
rl 10 f,„ flower8 you bur " e A-po° r
Dick!" 1
She drew back into the shadow
and turned her face ugqjnst a
friendly cushion, and Prescott
arose suddenly and stood Jpeside
her. His arm slipped arou.fd the
drooping shoulders and, with one
quick glance about him to make
of an unobseivant pub ic, lie
stooped and kissed her.
"Whocares now!" hewhisi ered.
Many Mothers of a Like Opim n.
Mrs. Pilmer, of Cordova,
'One of my children w
sub
says.
ject to croup of a severe type, a
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d the
Irelief.
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