It will be all right with mama after you pass your college examinations
and she sees you're in earnest."
"If you were a boy," I persisted, "you would n't belong to the Owl Club,
either. You'd be just like me."
She shook her head. "I would and I would n't. I expect I know the country
girls better than you do. You always put a kind of glamour over them. The
trouble with you, Jim, is that you're romantic. Mama's going to your
Commencement. She asked me the other day if I knew what your oration is to
be about. She wants you to do well."
I thought my oration very good. It stated with fervor a great many things
I had lately discovered. Mrs. Harling came to the Opera House to hear the
Commencement exercises, and I looked at her most of the time while I made
my speech. Her keen, intelligent eyes never left my face. Afterward she
came back to the dressing-room where we stood, with our diplomas in our
hands, walked up to me, and said heartily: "You surprised me, Jim. I did
n't believe you could do as well as that. You did n't get that speech out
of books." Among my graduation presents there was a silk umbrella from
Mrs. Harling, with my name on the handle.
I walked home from the Opera House alone. As I passed the Methodist
Church, I saw three white figures ahead of me, pacing up and down under
the arching maple trees, where the moonlight filtered through the lush
June foliage.
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