"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 d.i.c.k had conducted Laura to a seat beside her mother he stepped away to find Sennett, of the yearling cla.s.s.

"Sennett," murmured d.i.c.k 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 pa.s.s 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 d.i.c.k stood beside Mrs. Bentley and watched Laura dance with one of the most popular fellows of the cla.s.s. 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.

CHAPTER IX

SPOONY FEMME---FLIRTATION WALK

"So this is Flirtation Walk?" asked Belle Meade.

The four young people---Anstey was one of them---had just turned into the famous path, which begins not far to the eastward of the hotel. It was between one and two o'clock on Sunday afternoon.

"This is Flirtation Walk," replied Mr. Anstey.

"But is one compelled to flirt, on this stroll?" asked Belle, with a comical pout.

"By no means," Anstey hastened to a.s.sure her. "Yet the surroundings often bring out all there may be of slumbering inclination to flirt."

"Where did the walk ever get such a name?" pursued Belle.

"Really, you have to see the first half of it before you can quite comprehend," the Virginian told her.

"I suppose you have been over this way times innumerable?" teased Miss Meade.

"Hardly," replied Anstey seriously. "I have been a yearling only a few days."

"But is a plebe forbidden to stroll here?"

"If a plebe did have the bra.s.s to try it," replied Anstey slowly, "I reckon he would have to fight the whole yearling cla.s.s in turn."