And I can get away again
without anyone recognizing in me the man who was once known as
Cadet Jordan, of the first class!"
Yes; it was Jordan, back at West Point, sure of escaping recognition,
and bent on a desperate errand of wrecking Dick Prescott's promising
career.
But Dick performed all his duties through that dress parade conscious
only of the glory of the soldier's life. He thought he had caught
a fleeting glimpse of his mother once, in the crowd, as his company
executed a wheeling, and he was happy in what he knew her happiness
to be.
Then, when it was all over, and the corps again marched from the
field, Mrs. Prescott, who knew the ways of West Point, went and
stood at the edge of the grassy plain, nearly opposite the north
sally-port. Five minutes after the last of the corps had marched
in under the port, Dick, his dress uniform changed for the fatigue,
came out with bounding step and crossed the road.
Wholly unashamed, he passed his arms around his mother, gave her
a big hug, several kisses, and then, hat in hand, turned to stroll
with her under the trees.
"Dad couldn't come, I'm afraid?" Dick asked in disappointment.
"He had to stay and look after the store, you know, Dick, my boy.
But the store will be closed two days this week, for your father
is coming on here to see you graduate. Nothing could keep him
away from that.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177