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Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point Part 11

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d.i.c.k broke the seal with a consciousness of a little thrill that he had not felt in opening his mother's letter. d.i.c.k did not have to look for the signature; he knew the penmanship.

"My Dear Mr. Prescott," began the letter. ("Hm!" muttered the reader. "It used to be 'd.i.c.k'")

"Your note came as a delightfully pleasant surprise," d.i.c.k read on ("Now, I wonder why it should have been a surprise? Great Scott! Now, I come to think of it, I hadn't written her before since last February!")

"Of course we are going to drop all other plans for a flying visit to West Point," the letter ran on. "Belle is simply delighted with the idea. She has heard from Mr. Darrin, but he suggests September as the best time for us to visit Annapolis. So mother will bring Belle and myself to West Point. We can spend two or three days there. We shall arrive late on the afternoon on-----"

As d.i.c.k read the date, he gave a start.



"Why, they'll be here tomorrow afternoon," throbbed Prescott.

Then and there Prescott stood up in the low-ceilinged tent and tossed his campaign hat up to the ridgepole. That piece of headgear didn't have far to travel, but d.i.c.k accompanied it with an "hurrah!"

uttered almost under his breath.

"Won't Greg be the tickled boy!" murmured Prescott; joyously.

"Some one from home---and folks that we both like!"

Presently some of the drill squads returned to camp. Greg and Anstey came in, warm and curious.

"Did you get into any trouble with the O.C., old ramrod?" questioned Anstey in his soft voice.

"I don't believe I did," d.i.c.k answered.

Anstey nodded his congratulations.

"Greg, old fellow, guess what's going to happen soon?" demanded Prescott.

"I'd rather you'd tell me."

"Folks from home! Mrs. Bentley, Laura and Belle Meade will be here late tomorrow afternoon!

"Great!" admitted Cadet Holmes, but to d.i.c.k's ear his chum's enthusiasm seemed perfunctory.

"We'll drag femmes to the hop tomorrow night, eh, Greg?"

"Anything on earth that you say, old ramrod," agreed Holmes placidly, then stepped out of his tent to visit across the way.

"Spoony femmes?" inquired Anstey.

"Spooniest ever!" d.i.c.k declared.

"L.P.?"

"Not on your coming shoulder-straps!" retorted Prescott, an eager look in his eyes. "And say, Anstey, you're going to the hop tomorrow night, aren't you?

"Hadn't thought so," replied the other quietly.

"Anything else on?"

"Nothing particular."

"Then be at the hop, Anstey, old bunkie--do! I want you to meet both the young ladies, and dance at least a couple of numbers with each."

"I reckon I'd go through fire or water for you, or Holmesy," murmured the Virginian quietly.

"Oh, it isn't going to be anything like such an ordeal as that,"

laughed d.i.c.k happily. "Just wait until you've seen the young ladies. That's all!"

"As they-----" Anstey paused. Then he went on, after considering: "As they come from home, old ramrod, I should think you and Holmesy would want them all to yourselves."

"But don't you understand, you uncivilized being," demanded d.i.c.k, chuckling, "that we can't dance all the numbers with the girls?

It would be a slight on the girls if only two men wanted to dance with them. Besides, we want to show them all that's best about West Point. We want them to meet as many as possible the very best fellows that are here."

"My deepest thanks, suh, for the compliment," replied Anstey, with a deep bow.

"Well, that describes you, doesn't it?" demanded d.i.c.k. "We want these girls to carry away with them the finest impression possible of good old West Point!"

When evening came, and Prescott and Holmes strolled through camp, listening to the band concert, d.i.c.k wanted to talk all the time about the coming visit of the girls. Greg answered, though it struck his chum that Holmes was merely politely enthusiastic.

"Say, d.i.c.k," whispered Greg presently, with far greater enthusiasm than he had been displaying, "look at that black-eyed, perfectly tinted little doll that is walking with Griffin!

"Stroll around and meet them face to face presently, then," grinned d.i.c.k. "Griff won't mind."

"The deuce he won't" growled Greg. "I'd have a sc.r.a.p on my hands, besides being voted a b.u.t.ter-in."

"Try it," advised Prescott, giving his chum a little shove. "I tell you, Griff won't mind. Her name is Griffin, too. She's his sister."

A moment later Prescott turned and tried to gulp down a great chuckle. For Greg, without another word, had left him, and now was strolling along with an air of slight absorption, yet his course was so managed as to bring Mr. Holmes face to face with Griffin. At least a dozen other gray and white-clad young men were also to be observed manoeuvring so as to meet Griffin casually.

Thus it happened that Greg was but one of a group. Observing this, Holmes increased his stride.

"Hullo, Holmesy!" cried Griffin, with great cordiality. "Glad to encounter you. I've just been telling my sister about some of the best fellows. Della, I present Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes, my sister!"

Greg lifted his cap in the most polished manner that he had been able to acquire at West Point, while a dozen other men scowled at Griffin, who appeared not to see them.

Miss Adele Griffin was presently chatting most animatedly about her new impressions of West Point and the United States Military Academy.

"Holmesy, you know so much more about things than I do," pleaded Griffin sweetly, "just be good to Dell for an hour, won't you?

You're one of the best-informed men here. Now, mind you, Dell!

No fun at Mr. Holmes's expense. Look out for her, Holmesy!"

With that Griffin "slid away" as gracefully and neatly as though he hadn't been planning to do it all along.

"Your brother has always been mighty pleasant to me, but he never was as downright good before," murmured Greg, looking down into the big black eyes that glanced laughingly up into is face.

"Oh, if you are ordinarily observant," laughed Miss Griffin, "just keep your eyes on a level, and you'll be able, in five minutes, to understand why he is so good to you in the present instance."

Nevertheless, it was fully ten minutes before they met Griff again.

That young man was talking, with all animation, to a tall, rather stately blonde young lady.

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Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point Part 11 summary

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