At five o'clock everybody was summoned again to the rendezvous for a
ceremony preliminary to departure: the class found itself in a large
circle, standing, and sang "The Star Spangled Banner." Ordinarily, on
such an open-air and out-of-school occasion, Ramsey would have joined
the chorus uproariously with the utmost blatancy of which his vocal
apparatus was capable; and most of the other boys expressed their humour
by drowning out the serious efforts of the girls; but he sang feebly,
not much more than humming through his teeth. Standing beside Milla,
he was incapable of his former inelegancies and his voice was in a
semi-paralyzed condition, like the rest of him.


Opposite him, across the circle, Dora Yocum stood a little in advance of
those near her, for of course she led the singing. Her clear and earnest
voice was distinguishable from all others, and though she did not
glance toward Ramsey he had a queer feeling that she was assuming more
superiority than ever, and that she was icily scornful of him and Milla.
The old resentment rose--he'd "show" that girl yet, some day!

When the song was over, cheers were given for the class, "the good
ole class of Nineteen Fourteen," the school, the teachers, and for the
picnic, thus officially concluded; and then the picnickers, carrying
their baskets and faded wild flowers and other souvenirs and burdens,
moved toward the big "express wagons" which were to take them back into
the town. Ramsey got his guitar case, and turned to Milla.

"Well--" he said.

"Well what, Ramsey?"