With the deliberate step of age, she walked forward, wearing her son's college gown over her white dress, his mortar-board cap over her lace veil.
She seemed less moved than any person present; she could not see what we saw, the tiny gallant figure bent with fourscore and ten years of study and hard labor.
As she moved between the girl students who stood up to let her pass, she whispered, “How tall they are!
It seems to me the girls are much taller than they used to be.”
Did she realize how much shorter she was than she once had been?
I think not.
Then, her eyes sparkling with fun while all other eyes were wet, she shook her hard-earned diploma with a gay gesture in the faces of those girls, cast on them a keen glance that somehow was a challenge, “Catch up with me if you can!”
She had labored long for the higher education of women, suffered estrangement, borne ridicule for itthe sight of those girl graduates, starting on their life voyage equipped with a good education, was like a sudden realization of a life-long dream; uplifted her, gave her strength for the fatigues of the day. At the dinner given for her and the college dignitaries by Mrs. William Goddard, she was at her best.
She was asked for a Fourth of July message to the Sunday-School children of the Congregational Church, and wrote:--
I want them to build up character in themselves and in the community, to give to the country just so many men and women who will be incapable of meanness or dishonesty, who will look upon life as a sacred