Dick Prescott's Second Year at West Point Part 13

CHAPTER VII

THE FOLKS FROM HOME

Two tall, superbly erect young men, showing the soldier in every line of bearing, stepped jauntily along the road leading to the hotel just before five o'clock.

Each wore the fatigue cap of the cadet, the trim gray, black-trimmed blouse of the cadet uniform. Their white duck trousers were the spooniest as to spotlessness and crease.

d.i.c.k and Greg went straight to the hotel office.

"The register, please," asked Prescott, for the clerk's back was turned over some work that he was doing.

This was not a request for the hotel register but for the cadet register. Understanding, the clerk turned and pa.s.sed a small book known as the cadet register. He opened it to the page for the day, while Prescott was reaching for a pen.

In this register both young men inscribed their names. Each had secured permission from the O.C. to visit the hotel. At the close of every day, a transcript of the day's signatures by cadets is taken, and this transcript goes to the O.C. The clerk will send no cards for cadets who have not first registered. The transcript of registry, which goes to the O.C., enables the latter to make sure that no cadets have visited the hotel without permission.

Prescott laid down his visiting card. Holmes laid another beside it.

"Are Mrs. Bentley, Miss Bentley and Miss Meade here?" queried d.i.c.k.

After consulting the hotel register the clerk nodded.

"Our cards to Mrs. Bentley, please."

"Front! Fifty-seven!" called the clerk to a bellboy.

"Thank you," acknowledged Prescott.

"Wheeling, the young men turned from the office, striding down the hotel veranda side by side. They turned in at the ladies'

entrance, then, caps in hand, stood waiting in the corridor.

It is a rule that a cadet must enter no part of the hotel except the parlor. He must see his friends either there, or on the veranda. There is a story told that a general officer's wife visited West Point, for the first time, to see her son, a new cadet at West Point. The plebe son called---with permission---sent up his card, and was summoned to his mother's room. He went.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. The clerk stood there, apologetic but firm.

"I am very sorry, madam, but the regulations provide that your son can visit you only in the parlor."

"But I am the wife of Major General Blank!" exclaimed the surprised lady.

"But, Mrs. Blank, your son is a cadet, and subject to the regulations on the subject. He must either go to the parlor at once, or leave the hotel instantly. If he refuses to do either I am forced to telephone to the tactical officer in charge."

The general's wife was therefore obliged to descend to the parlor with her plebe son.

No other room but the parlor! This prohibition extends even to the dining room. The cadet may not, under any circ.u.mstances, accept an invitation from a friend or relative to take a sociable meal with either.

"Tyrannous" and "needlessly oppressive," are terms frequently applied by outsiders to the rules that hedge in cadets, but there is a good reason behind every regulation.

Two or three minutes later a middle-aged woman came slowly down the staircase, gazing about her. At last her glance settled, with some bewilderment on d.i.c.k and Greg, who were the only two cadets in the corridor.

"Why, I believe you must be Mr. Prescott and Mr. Holmes!" exclaimed Mrs. Bentley, moving forward and holding out both hands. "Yes; I am certain of it," she added, as d.i.c.k and Greg, bowing gracefully from the waistline, smiled goodhumoredly. "Mercy! But how you boys have grown! I am not sure that it is even proper to call you boys any longer."

"If we were boys any longer, Mrs. Bentley, I am sure you would be in doubt," laughed d.i.c.k easily. "Yes; you see, cadets, under their training here, usually do shoot up in the air. We have some short, runty cadets, however."

Just then there was a flutter and a swish on the stairs. Laura Bentley and Belle Meade came gliding forward, their eyes shining.

"Yes; I know you both and could tell you apart," cried Laura, laughing, as she held out her hand. "But what a tremendous change!"

"Do you think it is a change for the better?" asked d.i.c.k, smiling.

"Oh, I am sure that it is. Isn't it, Belle? A how wonderfully glad I am to see you both again."

d.i.c.k gazed at Laura with pride. He had no right to feel proud, except that she was from Gridley, and that she had come all the way to West Point to see him in his new life.

Laura Bentley, too, had changed somewhat, though not so much as had her cadet friends. She was but a shade taller, somewhat rounder, and much more womanly in an undefinable way. She was sweeter looking in all ways---d.i.c.k recognized that much at a glance.

Her eyes rested upon him, and then more briefly upon Greg, in utter friendliness free from coquetry.

"Can't you get excused and take us over to dress parade?" asked Belle.

d.i.c.k turned to look more closely at Miss Meade. Yes; she, too, was changed, and wholly for the better as far as charm of appearance and manner went. Both girls had lost the schoolgirl look. They were, indeed, women, even if very young ones.

"We can hardly get excused from any duty," d.i.c.k smiled. "But to-day---a most unusual thing---there is no dress parade."

"No parade?" exclaimed Mrs. Bentley in a tone of disappointment.

"No; the officers are entertaining some distinguished outside visitors at Cullum Hall this afternoon, and the band is over at Cullum," Greg explained.

"I am so sorry," murmured Mrs. Bentley.

"But you will be here until the close of tomorrow afternoon?"

asked d.i.c.k eagerly.

"We had planned to go away about eleven in the forenoon," replied Mrs. Bentley.

"Then you girls would miss a stroll along Flirtation Walk," suggested Cadet Prescott. "It is a very strange thing for a young lady to go away from West Point and confess that she has not had cadet escort along Flirtation Walk."

"Then we must stay until to-morrow afternoon; may we not, mother?"

pleaded Laura.

"Yes; for I wish you to see the most of West Point and its famous spots."

"Then to-morrow afternoon you will be able, also, to see dress parade," d.i.c.k suggested.

"Do you forget that tomorrow is Sunday? asked Mrs. Bentley.

"No; we have dress parade on Sunday."

Mrs. Bentley looked puzzled. To her it seemed almost sacrilegious to parade on Sunday!