Dick Prescottss Fourth Year at West Point | Page 9

Prescott?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"That is all, Mr. Prescott."
Saluting, Dick turned and left the tent.
"That's just like Lieutenant Denton," thought Dick, as he marched away
to his own company street. "Some of the tacs. would just as soon see
the plebe caught cold, poor little beast. But Lieutenant Denton can
remember the time when he was a cadet here himself, and he wants to
see the plebe have as much of the beginner's chance as can be given."
As Dick pushed aside the flap and entered his tent, he beheld his chum

and roommate, Greg Holmes, now a cadet lieutenant, carefully
transferring himself to his spoony dress uniform.
"Going to the hop to-night, old ramrod?" asked Greg carelessly, though
affectionately.
"Not in my line of hike," yawned Prescott. "You know I'm no hopoid."
"Oh, loyal swain!" laughed Greg in mock admiration. "You hop but
little oftener than once a year, when Laura comes on from the home
town! You throw away nearly all of the pleasures of the waxed floor."
"Even though but once a year, I go as often as I want," Dick answered,
with a pleasant smile.
"But see here, ramrod, an officer is expected to be a gentleman, and a
fellow can't be an all-around gentleman unless he is at ease with the
ladies. What sort of practice do you give yourself?"
"You're dragging a femme to the hop tonight?" queried Dick.
"Yes, sir," admitted Greg promptly.
"Then you're---pardon me---you're engaged to the young lady, of
course?"
"Engaged to take her to the hop, of course," parried Holmes.
"And engaged to be married to her, as well," insisted Dick.
"Ye-es," admitted Cadet Holmes reluctantly. "Let me see; this is the
fourteenth girl you've been engaged to marry, isn't it?"
"No, sir," blurted Greg indignantly. "Miss---I mean my present
betrothed, is only the eighth who has done me the honor."
"Even eight fiancees is going it pretty swiftly for a cadet not yet
through West Point," chuckled Dick.

"Well, confound it, it isn't my fault, is it?" grumbled Greg. "I didn't
break any of the engagements. The other seven girls broke off with me.
On the whole, though, I'm rather obliged to the seven for handing me
the mitten, for I'm satisfied that Miss---I mean, the present young
lady---is the one who is really fitted to make me happy for life."
"I'm almost sorry I'm not going to-night," mused Prescott aloud. "Then
I'd see the fortunate young lady."
"Oh, there are no secrets from you, old ramrod," protested Greg
good-humoredly. "You know her, anyway, I think---Miss Steele."
"Captain Steele's daughter?"
"Precisely," nodded Greg.
"Daughter of one of the instructors in drawing?"
"Yes."
"Greg, you're at least practical this time," laughed Dick. "That is, you
will be if Miss Steele doesn't follow the example of her predecessors,
and break the engagement too soon."
"Practical?" repeated Cadet Holmes. "What are you talking about, old
ramrod? Has the heat been too much for you to-day? Practical! Now,
what on earth is there that's practical about a love affair?"
"Why, if this engagement lasts long enough, Greg, old fellow, Captain
Steele and his wife will simply have to send you an invitation to a
Saturday evening dinner at their quarters. And then, in ordinary good
nature, they'll have to invite me, also, as your roommate. Greg, do you
stop to realize that we've never yet been invited to an officer's house to
dinner?"
"And we never would be, if we depended on you," grumbled Greg.
"Women are the foundation rock of society, yet you never look at
anyone in a petticoat except Laura Bentley, who comes here only once

a year, and who may be so tired of coming here that she'll never appear
again."
A brief cloud flitted across Dick's face. Seeing it, repentant Greg rattled
on:
"Of course you know me well enough, old ramrod, to know that I'm not
really reproaching you for being so loyal to Laura, good, sweet girl that
she is. But you've miffed a lot, of the girls on the post by your
constancy. Why, you could have the younger daughters of a dozen
officers' following you, if you'd only look at them."
"The younger daughters of the officers are all in the care of
nurse-maids, Greg," Prescott retorted with pretended dignity.
"Relieving nurse-maids of their responsibilities is no part of a cadet's
training or duty."
"Well, 'be good and you'll be happy'---but you won't have a good time,"
laughed Greg, who, having finished his inspection of himself in the tiny
glass, was now ready to depart.
"On your way, Holmesy," nodded Dick, glancing at the time. "It's a
long walk, even for a cadet, to Captain Steele's quarters."
Greg went away, humming under his breath.
"There's a chap whom care rarely hits," mused Dick, looking half