eason. He watched those old men wandering lowly around the campus, one of them with his grandson who was graduating this year, and he was iwed by their age and their devotion to their alma nater. Yes, Henley had been right. Sanford was
- ar from perfect, far from it—a child could see
hat—but there was something in the college that gripped one’s heart. What faults that old college lad; but how one loved her!
Thousands of Japanese lanterns had been strung around the campus; an electric fountain sparkled md splashed its many-colored waters; a band !;eemed to be playing every hour of the day and light from the band-stand in front of the Union, [t was a gay scene, and everybody seemed superbly lappy except, possibly, the seniors. They pre:ended to be happy, but all of them were a little sad, L little frightened. College had been very beautijful—and the “world outside,” what was it? What did it have in store for them?
There were mothers and fathers there to see
- heir sons receive their degrees, there were the
drives and children of the alumni, there were sisters and fiancees of the seniors. Nearly two thou¬ sand people; and at least half of the alumni drunk most of the time. Very drunk, many of them, and vtvy foolish, but nobody minded. Somehow every Dne seemed to realize that in a few brief days they svere trying to recapture a youthful thrill that had
