Dick was a master of swift toilets. He was on the company street
almost immediately after Jordan had stepped out under the shadow
of a tree.
"Prescott," began Jordan stiffly, "I want a word or two with you."
"Yes?" asked Dick, looking keenly at his classmate. "Very good."
"Why did you report me this morning?"
"Because you performed the work in an indolent, laggard manner,
even after I had cautioned you."
"Do you consider yourself called upon to be a judge of your
classmates?"
"When I am detailed in command over them in any duty---yes."
"Shall I tell you what I think of you for reporting me?"
"It would be in bad taste, at least," Dick answered. "It is against
the regulations for a cadet to call another to account for reporting
him officially."
"Oh, bother the regulations!"
"If that is actually your view," replied Dick, with a smile, "then
I will leave you to the enjoyment of your discovery concerning the
regulations."
"Prescott, you are a prig!" snapped Mr. Jordan.
"If it were necessary to determine that, as a matter of fact,"
answered Dick coolly, though he flushed somewhat, "I would rather
leave it to a decision of the class."
"Oh, I know you have plenty of bootlicks," sneered Jordan. "I
also know that you are class president. But that is no reason
why you should act as though you thought yourself a bigger man
than the President of the United States.
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