The class poem came next, and was received with enthusiasm.

The other numbers followed in rapid succession, each being applauded to the echo.

The class grinds were hailed with keen relish.

Each girl solemnly rose to take her medicine in the form of mild ridicule over some past harmless folly.
The class prophecy provoked ripples of merriment from the audience.
Grace chuckled with glee at the idea of exclusive Ethel Post becoming the proprietor of a moving-picture show at Coney Island.

The futures prophesied for the other members of the class were equally remarkable for their impossibility.
At last nothing remained but the senior charge and the junior reply.