CADET DODGE HEARS SOMETHING
It was an embarrassing position. So, at least, thought Laura
Bentley.
"Let us walk on," she suggested, turning as though she had not
seen Dodge.
"Humph!" muttered Dodge, turning his own course. "The girls are
showing their backs to me. Humph! Not that I care about them
particularly, but folks back in Gridley will be asking them if
they saw me, and they'll answer that they didn't speak with me.
There's no use in running into a snub, out here in the open.
But it's easy! I'll stag it at the hop tonight, and I can get
within range before they can signal me to keep away."
Smiling grimly, Dodge went to his tent.
After a while it was necessary for Dick and Greg to take their
friends back to the hotel, for the cadets must be on hand punctually
for supper formation.
"Mr. Anstey and I will call for you at 7:30, if we may," said
Dick.
"We shall be ready," Laura promised. "And that we may not keep
you waiting, we'll be down on the veranda."
And waiting they were. Dick and Anstey found Mrs. Bentley and
the girls seated near the ladies' entrance.
Anstey, the personification of southern grace and courtesy, made
his most impressive greetings to the ladies. His languid eyes
took in Laura Bentley at a glance, almost, and he found her to
be all that Prescott had described. Belle Meade won Anstey's
quick approval, though nothing in his face betrayed the fact.
At first glance, it appeared that both girls were very simply
attired in white, but they had spent days in planning the effects
of their gowning. Everything about their gowning was most perfectly
attuned. Above all, they looked what they were---two sweet,
wholesome, unaffected young women.
"We have time now for a short stroll to camp," proposed Prescott.
"If you would like it, you can see how we live in summer. The
camp is lighted, now."
So they strolled past the heads of the streets of the camp. At
the guard tent, Dick and Anstey explained the routine of guard
duty, in as far as it would be interesting to women. They touched,
lightly, upon some of the pranks that are played against the cadet
sentries.
Wherever Mrs. Bentley and the girls passed, cadet friends lifted
their caps to the ladies with Prescott and Anstey, the salutes
being punctiliously returned.
Bert Dodge was in a rage. He could not get so much as the courtesy
of a bow from these girls whom he had known for years. He was
being cut dead and he knew it, and the humiliation of the thing
was more than he could well bear. A half hour later, he saw the
party coming, and discreetly took himself out of sight.
"I can play my cards at the hop," he muttered.
The over to Cullum Hall, through the dark night, the little party
strolled, one of many similar parties.
Once inside Cullum Hall, Prescott and Anstey, looking mightily
like young copies of Mars in their splendid dress uniforms, conducted
the ladies to seats at the side of the ballroom. Dick and Anstey
next took the ladies' light wraps and went with them to the cloak
room, after which they passed on to the coat room and checked their
own caps.
Laura and Belle gazed about them with well-bred curiosity---Mrs.
Bentley, too---at the other guests of the evening, who were arriving
rapidly. The scene was one of animated life. It would have been
hard to say whether the handsome gowns of the young ladies, or
the cadet dress uniforms, gave more life and spirit to the scene.
As Prescott and Anstey returned across the ballroom floor the
orchestra started a preliminary march. Both young cadets fell
unconsciously in step close to the door, and came marching, side
by side, soldierly---perfect!
"What splendid, manly young fellows!" breathed Laura admiringly
to Belle. Her mother, too, heard.
"Be careful, Laura," advised her mother, smilingly. "Don't lose
your heart to a scrap of gray cloth and a brass button."
"Don't fear," smiled Miss Bentley happily. "When I lose my heart
it shall be to a man! And how many of them we see here tonight
mother!"
Nearly with the precision of a marching platoon the two young
men halted before the ladies. Yet there was nothing of stiff
formality about either Prescott or Anstey. They stood before
their friends, chatting lightly.
"Tell us about some of the other hops that you have attended before,"
begged Belle Meade.
"But we haven't attended any," Dick replied. "Do you recall my
promise in Gridley, Miss Bentley---that I would invite you to
my first hop as soon as I was eligible to attend one?"
"Yes," nodded Laura smilingly.
"This is my first hop," Dick said, smilingly.
"Mine, too," affirmed Anstey.
"Gracious!" laughed Belle merrily. "I hope you both know how
to dance."
"We put in weary lessons as plebes, under the dancing master,"
laughed Dick.
"But you danced well in Gridley," protested Laura.
"Thank you. But the style is a bit different at West Point."
"You make me uneasy," pouted Belle.
"Then that uneasiness will vanish by the time you are half through
with the first number."
"There comes Mr. Holmes," discovered Laura. "What a remarkably
pretty girl with him."
"Mr. Griffin's sister," said Dick.
"Isn't that Mr. Dodge?" murmured Laura.
Dick only half turned, but his sidelong glance covered the doorway.
"Yes; he appears to be stagging it."
Bert presently disappeared. As a cadet always claims the first
number or two with the young lady whom he has "dragged" hither,
"staggers" have to wait until later in the programme.
Then, presently the music for the opening dance struck up. Dick
had already presented Furlong, a "stagger," to Mrs. Bentley, so
that she was not left alone. Furlong had asked the pleasure of
a dance with Laura's mother, but Mrs. Bentley, with instinctive
tact, realized that the older women did not often dance at cadet
hops. So she begged Mr. Furlong to remain with her and tell her
about the cadet hops.
As the music struck up, and Dick bent before her, he thrilled
with the grace and unaffected friendliness with which Laura rose
and rested one hand on his shoulder. She was a woman, and a
magnificent one! Away they whirled, Anstey and Belle following.
"I greatly enjoyed the High School hops of former days," sighed
Laura, "but this is finer."
"Same escort," murmured Dick.
"Same name, but in many ways much changed," laughed Miss Bentley.
"Dick, I am so glad you came to West Point."
"So am I," he answered simply.
The first two numbers they danced together, then changed partners
for the third dance. Between times, Greg had appeared with Miss
Griffin and introductions had followed. Dick's fourth number
was danced with Miss Griffin, while Anstey led her out for the
fifth.
For that fifth dance Dick introduced one of his classmates to
Laura, and, during that dance, Prescott stood and chatted with
Mrs. Bentley. He saw to it that Laura's mother was very seldom
without company through the evening.
The sixth dance Dick enjoyed with Laura.
"I had a reason for waiting and asking for this dance," he murmured
in her ear.
"Yes?" challenged Laura.
"I discovered that it is the longest number on the programme.
I would dearly love the next number, also, but I must not make
the evening too dull and prosy for you. Will you trust me to
select your partner for the next dance?"
"I am wholly in your hands," smiled Miss Bentley.
After Dick had conducted Laura to a seat beside her mother he
stepped away to find Sennett, of the yearling class.
"Sennett," murmured Dick banteringly, "I have seen you casting
eyes at Miss Bentley."
"I fear I must plead my guilt, old ramrod. Are you going to present
me?"
"For the next dance. I think, if you are very much on your guard,
Sennett, you will pass for enough of a gentleman for a few minutes."
"I'll call you out for that on Monday," retorted the other yearling,
in mock wrath. "But, for the present, lead me over that I may
prostrate myself at the feet of the femme."
So Dick stood beside Mrs. Bentley and watched Laura dance with
one of the most popular fellows of the class. As Sennett and
Laura returned to Mrs. Bentley, Cadet Dodge suddenly slipped up
as though from nowhere.
"Miss Bentley," he murmured, bowing before Laura, after having
greeted her mother, "I am presumptuous enough to trust that you
remember me."
"Perfectly, Mr. Dodge," replied Laura in her even tones. "How
do you do?"
She did not offer her hand; within the limits of perfectly good
breeding it was her privilege to withhold it without slight or
offence.
"How have you been since the old High School days?"
"Perfectly well, thank you."
"And you, Mrs. Bentley?" asked Dodge, again bowing before her
mother.
"Very well, thank you, Mr. Dodge," replied Mrs. Bentley, who subtly
took her cue from her daughter.
"Now, Miss Bentley, you are not going to leave a broken heart
behind you at West Point?" urged Bert softly. "You are going
to let me write my name on your dance card---even if only once."
"You should have spoken earlier, Mr. Dodge," laughed Laura. "Every
dance, if not already taken, is good as promised."
Yearling Dodge could not conceal his chagrin. At that moment
Belle Meade returned with one of the tallest cadets on the floor.
Bert greeted her effusively. Belle returned the greeting as evenly
and as perfectly as Laura had done---but nothing more.
"Miss Meade, you are going to be tenderhearted enough to flatter
me with one dance?" begged Dodge.
"Oh, I am so sorry!" replied Belle, in a tone of well-bred regret
that carried with it nothing more than courtesy, "but I'm promised
for every dance."
Cadets Prescott and Sennett had turned slightly aside. So had
Belle's late partner. Dodge knew that they were laughing inwardly
at his Waterloo. And Anstey and Greg, who stood by at this moment,
appeared to be wearing inscrutable grins. Dodge made his adieus
hurriedly, walking up the ballroom just ahead of Furlong, who
also had observed. Bert felt sure so many of his comrades had
seen and enjoyed his plight that his fury was at white heat as
he stepped just outside the ballroom.
Furlong came after him, looking at him quizzically.
"We staggers have a hard time of it, eh, Dodge?" grinned Mr. Furlong.
"Are you referring to the two femmes I was just billing?" shot
out Dodge impetuously. "Oh, they're very inconsequential girls!"
Mr. Furlong drew himself up very straight, his eyes flashing fire.
"You dog!" he exclaimed, in utter disgust.
Yearling Dodge turned ghastly white.
"You---you didn't understand me. Let me explain," he urged.
"You can't explain a remark like yours," muttered Mr. Furlong
over his shoulder, as he turned his back on Bert.
To be called a "dog" has but one sequence in cadet world. Bert
Dodge had to send his seconds to Mr. Furlong before taps. Though
they must have loathed their task, had they known the whole story,
the seconds made arrangements with Mr. Furlong's representatives.
Before reveille the next morning Bert Dodge stood up for nearly
two rounds before the sledgehammer fists of Mr. Furlong.
When it was over, Dodge sought cadet hospital, remaining there
until Monday morning, and returning to camp looking somewhat the
worse for wear.
Along with truth, honor and courtesy, tenderest chivalry toward
woman is one of the fairest flowers of the West Point teaching.
Fellows like yearling Dodge cannot be taught. They can only
be insulted to the fighting point, and then pummelled. Cadet
Furlong went to considerable inconvenience, though uncomplainingly,
for two young women whom he had not the pleasure of knowing.