Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1891-05-28
HENRYR;ELLIOT.
rCopvriphted by American Press Association


The next day was presentation day,
and the Bassetts duly attended the en-
tire exercises, though, to tell the truth
which the ladies were very careful not
10 teli-the ceremonies were rather te-
dious. But what was of sole Importance
after all, they could see that Windward
was clearly a favorite with his class
mates, and that his friend also was
man of standing and value among them.
wednesday the older boys had their
holiday, and were left in possession OF
the college grounds, TO tell ali their old
stories over again, and make their Gus
toznary annual speeches and pleas for
increased academic funds, while our
party of four, costly filling coach,
drove about the beautiful city and its
suburbs. 1t was quiet, drowsy drive,
for all four felt the reaction from yes
terJlay's exertiOns-but languor became
Florence fully as well as gayety.
1t was certainly very pleasant indeed,
Stevens thought, to be admitted so cor
daily into this winsome family circle
and share their cultured, happy hearted
and affectionate companionship. Not
that many smart or wise things were
said, but he could see the family traits
of sincerity, fidelity and loving kindness
which had so drawn him to Windward
reflected in all their actions and CONVEX
sation. And Florence and a bunch Of
pink rosebuds she wore on her breast
certainly went well together. He re-
called a floating item he had read some
where that in the Malay tongue the
same word was used for flower and wOm-
IN, and he thought to himself that those
Malays were not such barbarians after
all, for, horticulturally speaking, women
were flowers and men only weeds, or at
best only substantial, nutritious vegeta-
bles. How he wished he dared say so,
and how he reproached himself that
night because he had not said so, and
because, too, he had not asked Florence
for bud as keepsake of the ride. 1t
would have been a natural, proper and
delicate bit of attention, he reflected,
and would have gratifed her. What
with his cbagrin over the wasted roses
Of the past and his anxiety respecting
the Dangers of Representative Institu-
tions" in the future Stevens made rather
bad night of it. But morning came at
last, and with it the final scenes of col
lege life.
The bell rang merrily, the procession
was formed and marched to the his
toric old Congregational church on the
city green, and the crowd poured in.
The platform groaned under a learned
load of professors and eminent guests.
The graduating class sat in the seats of
honor, where they could see and be seen.
That famous north gallery, sacred on
these festivals to ladies, never looked
more radiant, and no one of the many
noted beauties there Outshone the lovely
young Miss Bassett.
It was an audience to test the nerves
OF any orator, and Peter Stevens stout
heart beat fast and hard as he mounted
the platform and made his bows. He
saw nothing but a confusion of forms
and colors, and his ears were filed with
q whirl of dizzy noises. Oblivion came
down like mist on his memory, but he
held fast to the opening sentence of the
speech, and there was nothing to do but
to charge the fog bank and trust to luck.
So to it he went, and to his great COM
fort soon found he could always see one
or two sentences ahead as he progressed.
He began, therefore, to feel more at ease
and able to pay due attention to the
grsces Of emphasis and gesticulation, as
in turn he dwelt with suitable apprehen-
sion on the peril we are in from central
ization, ignorant suffrage, machine poll
tics, labor and corporate combinations,
the accumulation of large fortunes and
the evils of luxury. Then few grace
full phrases in closing and the speech
was done.
And suddenly, as he bowed his fare
well, splendid bouquet was tossed from
the north gallery and bounded on the
platform at his feet. Blushing and con-
fused, he stopped for the prize, while the
applause broke out afresh, bowed to the
glorious garden whence this nosegay had
been detached, and left the stage.
Excited and unhinged by his triumphs
he lodged his friends and sought the
quiet and privacy of his room. 81 am
very glad it's over" he thought to him,
self, land I don't see now how ever got
through. What a superb bouquet
can guess who threw It, but here is the
tag. with the congratulations and bes
wishes of Windward's mother and sis
ter What delightful people they art
anyway? And Miss Florence-but no
no, must not think of it; must not,
will not. have my life to make yet
It won't do, Peter!"
And having thus reached for the thirC
or fourth time this very sensible decision
he chose one dewy pink rosebud from
the bouquet, kissed it and laid it gentl.
between the leaves Of the manuscript
folded the speech up, and carefully pu
the roll away among his treasures, in
sisting, as he did so, that he must no
think of it, and was not thinking of il
and that it would not do.
CHAPTER III.
TOM RASSFTTiS GUEST