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.
Dick 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 passed 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 Dick.
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 circumstances,
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 Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick, smiling.
"Oh, I am sure that it is. Isn't it, Belle? A how wonderfully
glad I am to see you both again."
Dick 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---Dick 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.
Dick 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," Dick 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 Dick 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," Dick 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!
"Wait until you have seen our dress parade," Greg begged. "Then
you will understand. It is really as impressive as a religious
ceremony; it is the last honors of each day to our country's flag."
"Oh," murmured Mrs. Bentley, looking relieved.
By this time the little party had moved out on to the veranda.
"As there is no dress parade this afternoon," urged Dick, "may
we not take you over, and let you see our camp from the outside.
Then, after supper, we may, if you wish, take you to the camp
for a look before going to the hop."
"As to supper," went on Mrs. Bentley, "you two young gentlemen
must come to the hotel a take the meal with us. Wait; I will
send word to the office that we shall have guests."
"If you do, you will give the clerk cause for a jolly smile,"
explained Prescott, smiling. "No cadet can possibly eat at the
hotel. There are many regulations that will surprise you, Mrs.
Bentley. I will explain as many as occur to me."
Prescott walked between Mrs. Bentley and Laura, while Greg came
along with Belle just behind them.
"Are you taking me to the hop tonight, Mr. Holmes?" asked Belle
with her usual directness.
Poor Greg, seasoned cadet though he was, flushed uncomfortably.
"I should be," stammered Greg, "but it happens that I am already
engaged to drag---to escort a young lady to tonight's hop."
"I like that word 'drag' better than 'escort'," laughed Belle.
"But Mr. Anstey, our tentmate, is to escort you tonight," Greg
made haste to explain.
"That is the first I have heard of it," replied Belle, with an
odd smile. "Does Mr. Anstey know about it, either?"
"Don't make fun of me," begged Holmes quickly. "Miss Meade, there
are many customs here that are strange to outsiders. But they
are very old customs."
"Some of them, I suppose," laughed Belle, "so old that they should
be forgotten."
"All cadets are regarded as gentlemen," hurried on Greg. "Therefore,
any cadet may be a suitable escort for a young woman. If one
cadet has two young lady friends coming to the hop, for instance,
he asks one of his comrades to escort one of his friends. Why,
a cadet who, for any reason, finds himself unable to attend a
hop, after he has invited a young lady, may arrange with anyone
of his comrades to call for the young lady in his place."
"What if she should decline the unknown substitute who reported
to fill the task?" teased Belle.
"It would betray her unfamiliarity with West Point," replied Greg,
with more spirit than Belle had expected from this once very quiet
young man. "Miss Meade, we look upon a our comrades here as gentlemen.
We regard the man whom we may send in our place as being more
worthy than ourselves. Isn't it natural, therefore, that we should
expect the young lady to feel honored by the substitution in the
way of escort?
"Wholly so," Belle admitted. "If I have said anything that sounded
inconsiderate, or too light, you will forgive me, won't you, Mr.
Holmes?"
"You haven't offended, and you couldn't," Greg replied courteously;
"for I never take offence where none is meant, and you would be
incapable of intending any."
The young people ahead were talking very quietly. Laura, indeed,
did not wish to talk much. She was taken up with her study of
the changed---and improved---Dick Prescott.
"Do you know, Dick," she asked finally, "I am more pleased over
your coming to West Point than over anything else that could have
happened to you."
"Why?" Dick asked.
"Because the life here has made such a rapid and fine change in
you."
"You are sure it has made such a change?" Dick inquired.
"Yes; you were a manly boy in Gridley, but you are an actual man,
now, and I am certain that the change has been made more quickly
here than would have happened in any other life."
"One thing I can understand," pursued Laura. "The life here is
one that is full of purpose. It must be. It takes purpose and
downright hard work to change two young men as you and Greg have
been changed."
By this time the little party was close to the west, or road side
of the encampment.
"Isn't that Bert Dodge over there?" asked Laura, after gazing rather
intently at a somewhat distant cadet.
"That is Mr. Dodge, Laura."
"Do you care to call him over to speak with us?" asked Mrs. Bentley.
"If you wish it," Dick responded evenly.
Laura looked at him quickly.
"Are you and Mr. Dodge no better friends here than at Gridley?"
she asked in a low tone.
"Mr. Dodge and I are classmates, but we are thrown together very
little," Dick replied quietly.
"I do not think we care about speaking with Mr. Dodge, do we,
mother?" inquired Laura.
"There is no need to," replied Mrs. Bentley.
At that moment Bert Dodge espied the little party. After a short,
but curious stare, Bert turned and came toward them.