Laura's face was almost as white as d.i.c.k's had been at noon, as she gazed after the receding Prescott.

Then Greg, in his bluntest way, tried to put it all straight, and quickly, at that.

"Oh, is that all?" asked Belle with a sniff of contempt. "Why couldn't d.i.c.k remain and tell us himself? You cadets are certainly cowards in some things---sometimes!"

But the tears were struggling for a front place in Laura's fine eyes.

"Is this 'silence' going to affect d.i.c.k very much in his career in the Army?" she asked with emotion.

"Not if his staunchest friends can prevent it," replied Greg almost fiercely. "And old ramrod has a host of friends in his cla.s.s, at that."

"It's too bad they're not in the majority, then," murmured Miss Meade.

"They will be, in the end," a.s.serted Greg. "We're working things around to that point. You should have heard the fierce row we put up at the cla.s.s meeting last night."

When it was too late Greg could have bitten his tongue.

"Cla.s.s meeting?" asked Laura. "Then has there been further action taken?"

Greg nodded, biting his lips.

"What was last night's meeting held for?" persisted Laura.

"To try to oust d.i.c.k from the cla.s.s presidency," confessed Cadet Holmes.

"Did they do it?" quivered Laura Bentley.

"No!"

"Ah! Then the attempt was defeated. d.i.c.k is to retain the presidency of his cla.s.s?"

"Action was deferred," replied Greg in a low voice.

He wished with all his heart he could get away, for he saw that, no matter how he tried to hedge the facts about, these keen-witted girls realized that d.i.c.k Prescott's plight was about as black as it could be for a young man who wanted, with all his soul, to remain in the military service of his country.

CHAPTER VII

JORDAN MEETS DISASTER

Belle, with her combination of impulsive temperament, good judgment and bluntness, came to the temporary rescue.

"Greg is trying to conceal the fact that he'll have a desperate rush to get into his dress uniform in time for parade," Miss Meade interposed. "Anyway, there's far more about this matter than we can understand in a moment. Greg, you and d.i.c.k can call on us at the hotel this evening, can't you?"

"We most surely can."

"Then come, as early as you can. We'll eat the earliest dinner we can get there, and be prepared for a long evening. Now, hurry to your tent, for I don't want to see you reported for being late at formation."

Between her visits to West Point, and her trips to Annapolis to see Dave Darrin, as related in the Annapolis Series, Belle had by this time a very considerable knowledge of formations, and of other incidents in the lives of Army and Navy cadets.

"This evening, then," replied Greg, shifting his campaign hat to the other hand and feeling like a man who has secured a reprieve.

"And give my love to d.i.c.k," Belle went on hastily, "and tell him that the President of the United States couldn't, if he wanted to, change our opinion of dear old d.i.c.k in the least."

"Thank you," bowed Greg, grat.i.tude welling up in his heart.

"And you send him your love, don't you, Laura?" insisted Belle swiftly.

Laura recoiled quickly, flushing violently.

It was all right for Belle Meade to send her "love" to Prescott, for they were old friends, and Belle was known to be Dave Darrin's loyal sweetheart.

With Laura the situation was painfully different. She and d.i.c.k had been schoolboy and schoolgirl sweethearts, after a fashion, but d.i.c.k had never openly declared his love for her.

Would he misunderstand, and think her unwomanly?

She trembled with the sudden doubt at the thought.

Besides, another, a prosperous young merchant back in Gridley, had been ardent in his attentions to Miss Bentley.

"Of course Laura sends her love," broke in Greg promptly. "Who wouldn't, when the dear old fellow is in such a sc.r.a.pe? And I'll deliver the message of love from you both---and from Mrs. Bentley, too?"

Greg looked inquiringly, but expectantly at Laura's mother, who nodded and smiled in ready sympathy.

Then Greg made his best soldier's bow and hastened off to his chum, whose heart he succeeded in gladdening somewhat while the two made all haste to get ready for parade call.

When the corps marched on to the field that afternoon, Mrs. Bentley and the girls were there among the eager spectators. d.i.c.k saw them almost instantly, and his heart bounded within him. It was Laura's mute message of sympathy and hope to him! He held up his head higher, if that were possible, and went through every movement with even more than his usual precision.

As the corps was marching off the field again, however, d.i.c.k's heart sank rapidly within him.

"If I have to leave the Army, I can never ask Laura for her love,"

he groaned wretchedly. "If I go from West Point as anything but a graduate and an officer, I shall have to start life all over again. It will take me years to find my place and get solidly on my feet I could never ask a girl to wait as long as that!"

In the early evening Laura, Belle and Mrs. Bentley were on the veranda near the hotel entrance. Cadets Jordan and Dougla.s.s made their appearance. Jordan had obtained official permission to present Dougla.s.s to his sister, who was to go to the hop that evening.

"By Jove, there's a spoony femme (pretty girl) over there," breathed Jordan in Dougla.s.s' ear. "You don't happen to know her, do you?"

"Why, yes, that's Miss Bentley, and the other is Miss Meade.

The chaperon is Miss Bentley's mother," replied Cadet Dougla.s.s.

"You know them?" throbbed Jordan, his eyes resting eagerly on Laura's face. "What luck! Present me, old chap!"

So Dougla.s.s, who, in some respects, had a bad memory, piloted his cla.s.smate over to the ladies and halted.

"Good evening, ladies," greeted Dougla.s.s, raising his uniform cap in his most polished manner. "Mrs. Bentley, Miss Bentley, Miss Meade, will you permit me to present my friend and cla.s.smate Mr. Jordan?"