So Jim said a hasty good-bye and waited under the group of elms that Betty had pointed out, to see 19-- march by. Somebody had suggested having a costumed procession this year, and the seniors and half a dozen recently graduated classes had vied with one another in planning queer and effective uniforms. There were masked classes, classes with red parasols, classes with purple sunbonnets and purple fans, classes with yellow caps and gowns. But 19--’s close-fitting green robes were lighted up by weird green torches, and in the middle of the ranks marched all the 19-- animals--the Jabberwock, the Green Dragon, the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon from an Alice in Wonderland show, ploshkins in assorted sizes with pink shoe-strings waving in their paws, and finally a little reckless ritherum hopping along in the rear. It jumped at the waving pink shoe-strings, it snatched a green lantern from the hands of a green-robed figure and charged with it blithely into the laughing crowd, and when it came to the elm trees where Jim was standing it darted straight at him and whispered, “Good-bye again, Jim. Do manage to come to Cleveland sometimes and talk to the cook,” and was off again after a pink shoe-string before Jim had discovered what was happening to him.