The little birds sang as if it were
The one day of summer in all the year.
--LOWELL.
I do not know when Mrs. Congressman would have been roused from her
nap, if the clock on the old tower had not told its tale of the passage
of time. But when three sonorous notes had sounded, after that the
girls kept close watch, for soon Magnus would be but a half hour away.
They passed round to the west side, and sat watching the hills and the
plain and the clock, by turns; and it wanted two minutes of the quarter
when they went in. And Mrs. Ironwood was prompt. She waked up at once,
donned a fresh gown and an astonishing bonnet; looked her girls over
critically, to make sure their simple preparations had come out all
right, then sailed away down the steps and across the plain, with her
pretty convoy close following.
Late spring everywhere, blue sky and hot sun; a ravishing green carpet,
and just a stir of such air as breathes nowhere but in the Highlands.
Gaily dressed women spotted the green, dark-blue officers came and
went; the bugler at the sallyport handled and toned his bugle.
Straight through the sallyport the Western dame led her two girls,
passing grey coats on the way across the area, and meeting others
at the guard-house; nodding to one, hailing another, but giving
no introductions; until after making known her wishes to the
magnificent officer of the day, she turned to her girls, and presented
Cadet-Captain Trueman. Then panted up the narrow staircase to the
visitors' room, which was hot, and not magnificent.
[Illustration: PARADE REST IN CAMP]
Mrs. Ironwood and her fan at once absorbed the window, the two girls
stood shyly behind her; and back and forth before their eyes went the
slim grey figures in the area. Some who knew Mrs. Ironwood and doffed
their caps to her gave just a swift second glance at the two new faces.
For a cadet never stares, or does it so surreptitiously from under his
visor that nobody knows.
But the minutes seemed long. Mrs. Ironwood's fan plied back and forth,
the girls stood watching.
"What makes them all look just alike?" said Violet. "I should say that
man has been across six times already." Mrs. Ironwood laughed.
"Maybe he has," she said. "You'll bring the chaos to order in a day or
two. Look very monotonous, don't they? I suppose you'll not even know
Magnus when he comes."
But a little cry from both the girls answered that. Another grey figure
came hurrying across the open space, swung his cap high in air beneath
the window, and came tearing up the stairs.
After the first words, Mrs. Ironwood went back to her seat, and left
them to themselves, interviewing at more length some of her friends
below; but then she made a move.
"We must get out of here," she said. "There come more bonnets, and
there'll be more cadets, and we shan't have standing room."
"When the bugle blows," said Magnus. "I can't leave here till four
o'clock. But it's close on that now."
"And then we can have you all the rest of the afternoon," said Violet.
"No, little peach blossom, you cannot. There's a review on hand. I'll
take you down to the seats. There it goes--" And the sweet four o'clock
call rang out in front of barracks, repeated then at different points,
and answered by soft echoes from the hill.
The little party made their way out, and down among the old trees by
the officers' row, where already the seats were filling up. But Magnus
found them a good place, and himself stood in front; mounting guard
over his treasures with a joy and pride it was pleasant to see. He
quite ignored the suggestive looks that came from other men in grey.
Just now, he wanted his sisters all to himself. And the way they gazed
at him could not be told.
To see how he knew by instinct when an officer came by; instantly
whirling around to salute, to note how very often that cap came off to
some embodiment of fashion and finery, was a great study. For Magnus
was on tiptoe, and put in all the flourishes the law allowed. Only at
the sound of the first drum did his exalted state come down.
"That drummer ought to be hung at the sallyport," he said.
"But it is all so pretty," said Rose. "And so in keeping, Magnus."
"You do not know drums," he said. "That call means: 'Charlemagne
Kindred--and every other cadet out for a breath of fresh air--walk
straight off to barracks.'"
"Does it?" said Violet. "Then why don't you go? We'll walk over with
you."
"Sit still! Why don't I go?" and Mr. Kindred gave fresh utterance to
his disdain.
"Now it sounds again," said Rose. "Is that a second invitation to
'walk'?"
"No; this one says: 'Magnus Kindred--and every other man who is
enjoying himself--run!'"
"O, then, do go, dear!" pleaded the girls. "O, Magnus! _do_ not be
late. See, those men are running."
But Magnus gave no sort of heed. He bowed to Miss Newcomb, looked
after the speeding grey coats, and remarked calmly:
"Let them run. They want practice." But when the next call sounded,
Magnus turned.
"That spells," he said: "'Magnus Kindred--and every other poor fellow
who doesn't mean to be skinned--scamper!'" and scamper he certainly
did. The two girls watched him, breathless and anxious.
"There are three ladies right in his way," said Violet. "Oh, I hope
they'll not stop him!"
But no, indeed; a cadet dodging a "late" is not so easily stopped.
Magnus knew them, took off his cap to them, spoke some words of
greeting, but never stayed his pace; and his sisters had the pleasure
of seeing him dive in through the sallyport before the drum said
another word. Then they looked at each other and laughed.
"Such a boy!" said Rose.
"But how he did run," said Violet. Then they both were silent with
intensest interest. For the old grey barracks presently took to itself
the well-known likeness of a beehive in swarming time, and ignorant
eyes could as little tell what was going on as the uninitiated can
guess that the bees are searching for their queen. Hanging round the
doorways, clustering in front, with new forms all the time pouring out,
until, like the tin pan of the farmer's wife, that mysterious drum
brought order, and they settled down in a long, long line upon the
sidewalk.
Just at this point, with all the dangerous element in safe bonds, Mrs.
Ironwood left her girls for a while and went for a chat on one of the
hospitable porches behind her. Several other people also moved away,
for a walk or a talk; and the vacant seats were taken by a handful of
girls just come on the ground, and who, noting the new faces, were now
in the keen pursuit of knowledge.
At first, however, they seemed more eager to give it, talking fast and
loud, and sometimes across the two young strangers who were watching
every movement on the plain. But when the march down from barracks
ended in another motionless line upon the green, and each girl began to
pick out her friends and favourites, despite the confusing chin-straps,
then it was impossible not to listen.
"Look at Mr. True," said one; "he's a mere mathematical line."
"He'd be adorable, if he wasn't such a poke," said another.
"I'd give more to see that man brought to terms!"
"What terms?"
"Unconditional surrender. Down on his knees."
"Mr. Randolph is just behind him," said the first. "And Mr. Crane is
fourth from the end in B Company."
"Which is Mr. Kindred?" said Rose, turning to her.
"Second man with the cross-belt. Do you know him?" said the young lady,
much surprised.
"I have met him several times."
"Well, anybody who knows Magnus Kindred after meeting him 'several
times,' may go up head," said Miss Saucy.
"Is he a poke, too?" asked Violet, with a grave face.
"No, he's too wicked for that," said Miss Cray.
"Wicked?" said little Miss Wren. "Why, he's one in discipline all the
time."
"Well, he'd better be two, and have a few grains of civility," said
Miss Cray. "Absolutely he left me all standing in the middle of the
plain yesterday, just because that ridiculous drum chose to beat!"
"But that was a very good way to be left," said Rose merrily. "Perhaps
if you had been all falling, he would have stayed."
"Fine idea to work up!" said another girl, laughing, but Miss Cray
tossed her head.
"Nobody cared, either way," she said. "How do _you_ know what 'perhaps'
he would have done?"
"Why, we are both his sisters," said Violet. And for once in her life
Miss Cray was taken aback.
"Fancy it!" she said. "Where are you staying?"
"At the hotel."
"We are at Cranston's. Who is your chaperon?"
"Mrs. Ironwood."
Which was better care than Miss Cray herself could boast, and so the
force of circumstances dealt another blow.
"Well, don't serve me out too large a slice of humble pie," she said.
"I'm awfully fond of Mr. Kindred, myself. The trouble is, he's not so
awfully fond of me. And wounded hearts, you know!"
"If Mr. McLean were here, he'd say: 'Steady!'" remarked Miss Wren. "Do
you know Mr. McLean, too?" she said, turning to Violet.
"Yes."
"Met _him_ 'several times'?"
"Yes."
"But you must come from the West?"
"There are quite a number of people out there," said Violet.
"And one can visit, even on a prairie," said Miss Cray politely. "But
it seems so odd."
Perhaps for a freer discussion of the oddity of things, that party
moved away, and Mrs. Ironwood came back to her charge. But social
duties still claimed her to such a degree that she hardly looked at the
review, and not at all at the girls, for a good while. Then in some
moment of silence, a soft, long-drawn breath made her turn her head.
The cadets were just passing, double-timing round the square, and the
good lady saw that her two girls had hold of hands, and that the eyes
of both were full. What about? Only for one particular dress coat with
a white cross-belt, one particular pair of shoes that darted past; the
owner whereof was so far from feeling himself a hero that he was just
pronouncing under breath the whole review a mean contrivance to keep
men out in the sun. Ah, young brothers! have you any faint vision of
what your sisters see in you?
"Pull up your wraps, girls," said Mrs. Congressman. "It turns cool
here, the minute the sun drops behind the hill. And I suppose wild
horses wouldn't get you away before parade. Well, they'll have dealings
with that man."
The end of the battalion was just passing, one single cadet officer
bringing up the rear; and this man's sash had come untied. And as he
darted on, one long red streamer trailed gracefully behind him; too
heavy to float, unless with more wind astir.
The girls were in fits of merriment; only our two girls looked grave.
"Just think!" whispered Rose; "it might have been Magnus."
"But why doesn't he stop and tie it up?" said Violet.
"Stop and tie it up?" said Mrs. Congressman, who caught the words.
"Why, if his head was off, he couldn't stop to put it on. Not in a
review."
Between review and parade there was a charming bit of free time when
Magnus came down to see his sisters. Miss Cray and her party took for
granted he was coming also to see them, and there was some bridling and
handling of sugar-plum boxes. And it was quite a shock, when Magnus,
after bowing to them, turned away, and found himself a seat between
"those two Western girls," whom he could see any time.
Sweet brief minutes; I wonder if unlimited free hours can ever have
the subtle charm that used to hang over the now-and-then release from
quarters?
Mr. Starr came up to claim acquaintance, and presently coaxed Rose
away to introduce her to the sidewalk, as he said; Cadet-Captain
Trueman appeared, preferring the same claim, though of so much later
date. And Miss Cray looked on.
As for my two girls, they were more than content; Violet finding the
grave, dark-browed Mr. True a very interesting person indeed; and Rose
so taken up with Mr. Starr's sallies of fun and comment, that she
missed all the admiring glances bestowed upon her own sweet eyes and
laughing mouth. The first drum came all too soon.
Starr went on to just the point where they had turned before, came
slowly back and led Rose to her seat; then standing before her and
going on with his talk. And Miss Cray listened.
"Mr. Trueman," she said presently, putting in her word, "we had a wager
about you last night."
"About me? That certainly speaks you all ladies of much leisure."
"Now, don't begin to preach," said Miss Freak. "Be good for once, and
tell us."
"And what, if you please?"
"The point was this," said Miss Saucy. "Kate said that before you will
go down on your knees to a woman, you must have a cushion a mile high.
The rest of us thought that perhaps a yard might do."
"Pardon me!" said Mr. Trueman, with some energy; "if ever I kneel to a
woman, I shall want no cushion!"
And the tall cadet captain bowed gravely to Violet, touched his cap to
the others, and walked away.
A quick clearance of grey coats from about the seats followed. Over by
the innocent-looking reveille gun stood two soldiers in blue, at the
foot of the flagstaff were two more. The flag showed off its beauties,
lifting, falling, floating away in circling folds upon the fitful
air; then drooping, a mere line of colour against the staff. Then
came a series of wild yells from the front of barracks, answering the
roll-call, and then parade.
In spite of the dignitaries who generally "assist" at a review, adding
all that position or plumage can give, they never get off anything at
West Point that is quite so good as an old-time dress parade. I use my
adjective wittingly, for--no disrespect to the new tactics, they hurt
the effect. To-night everything was perfect, even the music. The band
struck up "Money Musk," or some other time-honoured quick-step, known
in those happy days before "Boulanger" was heard of; the grey files
came down the green in absolute order, and drew up in a long, unbroken,
glancing line, before the seats.
The hills across the river were in a glory of sunshine, the higher
heads that sentinel the north entrance to the Highlands showed sunlight
and shadow, too. The river went silently along, you could just hear the
paddles of the _Mary Powell_, as she speeded round Gee's Point on her
northward course. All this, while the adjutant dressed the line, and
brought it to parade rest.
"Sound off!"
It matters little what they played then, for as the drum major raised
his baton and struck his attitude, and the throng of bandsmen went
nimbly after him, our two Western girls were absolutely and wholly
bewitched. To see the black plumes slanting off as one before the
breeze, with the stir of a red sash here and there, and the glinting of
breast-plates and bayonets and bell buttons in that long moveless line.
Then to behold the band of musicians getting tangled up in a maze at
the turn, but coming out all right, and playing for dear life through
it all,--they were so wrapped and lost, no wonder the gun made them
jump.
Then the wonder of the manual, to unwonted eyes; the comical
different voices in which the sergeants reported, with hand on heart
(supposedly), and the amused guesses as to how in Company D there
should be two privates absent and unaccounted for. Even the jumble of
the orders was delightful.
"Headquarters Military Academy, West Point, N. Y., May 10, 18--" so
much was generally plain. As also "Special Order. No. forty three-e-e!"
But whether it gave Cadet Nameless leave of absence for two weeks, or
said he was to be shot in two days, only the nature of the case made
clear. To their ears, it might as well have been the one as the other.
The reading ends, the adjutant tucks the folded paper into the breast
of his dress coat, comes neatly round on one heel, and waves his sword
to the officer in charge.
"Sir, the orders are published."
"Dismiss the parade, sir!"
Another skilful pirouette, and the adjutant faces the line and sheathes
his sword.
"Parade dismissed!"
The swords of all the cadet officers rattle down into the scabbard, the
adjutant steps loftily back to his old place by the line.
"Forward! Guide centre! March!"
And with another gay burst of music, the cadet officers come forward,
salute the officer in charge, and disperse (in these days draw up
behind him); the long, grey line breaks into companies, the music
changes its measure, and away they all go to barracks, to the sweet
strains of "Pop Goes the Weasel!" Every right arm swings just so, every
black shoe sole displays its regulation state, in most regulation
order. But how many furtive blessings brushed the head of Cadet Kindred
as he went by, that obtuse young fellow never guessed.
Tea at the hotel, after all this, was prosaic enough, but doubtless the
most soaring bird comes down to rest, and finds the lower lands quite
bearable, with further flight in prospect. So the two girls relished
their bread and butter and strawberries with no alloy, for was not
Magnus coming after supper for a walk? Magnus, and perhaps two more.
"Everything is so unusual," Rose said; "it makes one feel quite
distinguished. Think of walking 'till call to quarters!"
"Yes, think of it," said Mrs. Congressman, carefully creaming her black
tea. "Then you've been in the cars night and day since Monday. You must
excuse me, young ladies. I know girls are untirable where cadets are
concerned, but I am too old a bird for that sort of chaff, and I am
going straight to my bed, as soon as I see you off. With your brother
along, you'll not need me."
"May we sit on the piazza after we come back? Or must we go to bed,
too?" asked Violet.
"Sit there? Yes. Must you go to bed? No. Sit there and gaze at the
barracks till shutting up time comes, and then go upstairs and carry it
on from your window. You're not obliged to go to bed at all, while you
are at West Point. Who's coming to-night?"
"Magnus, of course, and Mr. Trueman. And Mr. McLean said he would, if
he could."
"Three for two girls; you begin well. There, they are coming out, and
you can go stand at the fence, and I can go to my bed."
"Why should we stand at the fence?"
"'Mahomet and the mountain,'" said Mrs. Congressman. "Bell buttons
cannot come any nearer, without a special permit."
"But I do not like that," said Violet, drawing back. "You know you bade
us not. It looks as if we were waiting for somebody."
"Silly girl! That is just what you are doing: now isn't then. Come,
I'll see you safe to the fence."
So under that broad, protecting shadow the girls went down the walk;
shy, and glad, and expectant, and just a trifle afraid; for were there
not _four_ dark figures coming rapidly across the plain? It was all so
strange and entrancing; the straight shadows, the measured step.
"Ah, here you are!" cried Magnus. "Good-evening, Mrs. Ironwood."
"How d'ye do again," said that lady. "How d'ye do, Mr. Trueman, and Mr.
McLean--and, as I'm alive!--Mr. Bouché! I suppose two of you have come
for me. I'm so broad, you think one wouldn't hear what the other was
saying, and you could both fool me to your heart's content."
There was a laugh and a protest (very honest, so far as the coming for
_her_ was concerned), and then the young people turned away, and Mrs.
Congressman went to her much coveted repose.
"She fulfils her destiny," said Mr. Bouché, as he placed himself by
Rose. "The only possible use of a chaperon is to go to sleep."