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A little later, and the grand function was over. The Chancellor and the members of the Senate had filed off solemnly, like the chorus of a Greek play, the reporters had closed their note-books and decamped with much less ceremony, and the theatre was deserted, save by a few presentees who were displaying their medals and diplomas to impatient friends. Cecil paused at the door on her way to the robing-room with Miss Arbuthnot.

“I’m quite sorry to say good-bye to the dear old place,” she said; “I have been here for the Matriculation, the Intermediate, and the B.A., and now again to-day, and I know the pattern of the ceiling and all the mouldings on the walls by heart.”

“I only wish you would come here again for the M.A. and the D.Lit.,” said Miss Arbuthnot. “That is my one sorrow with regard to you, Cecil, that you are ending your academical course at this point.”

“But, you see, I have really no choice,” said Cecil. “The children at home are getting older, and I must either teach them myself or earn money to help with their education. And you know, Miss Arbuthnot, I do so much dread going among strangers, and I want to stay at home if I possibly can. If I could have got a post in the School, of course——”