Magnus tossed the coat up to the ceiling, regardless of what might happen to the plaster, and joined the shopping band that very day.
It was delightful now, in the soft spring weather, to go out at every release from quarters, for a stroll round the plain, or down by the river. How lovely Flirtation was! An army of "Dutchman's breeches" held all the best posts among the rocks by the wayside, scaling the cliffs even down by the landing. And in the deeper shade north of Battery Knox, whole beds of dog-tooth violets filled the spots of damper ground, lifting their elegant heads like the highbred beauties that they are.
Among the tougher growths, iron wood and black birch were charming with their tresses, and the young tufts of maple and oak and hickory leaves were a joy to see. Shad blossoms and dogwood "picked out" the green; from some far-down hidden corner the spice bush spiced the air. Saxifrage spread whole sheets of bloom; and Lowell's "dear common flower" gleamed everywhere.
And then the girls came. Some "opening buds" that had come fresh from Paris; and some early birds, besides robins and song sparrows. The company drills had lookers-on; the walks round Flirtation were not always games of solitaire.
Among the visitors who appeared thus early, was a certain Mrs. Granton, with two girls of her own, and two belonging to other people—Miss Bee and Miss Clive. The Granton girls were just average damsels, but, of course, having a gay brother in the first class, they went everywhere, and knew everybody. Miss Clive was an heiress and played ditto, ditto upon yet stronger ground.
In the wake of these triumphant young ladies came Miss Bee with just funds enough to pay her own bills, but no particular store of either wealth or beauty.
She was a sensible girl, had a sensible little face, with pleasant eyes and a merry mouth, but had not knowledge to make the most of herself in the way some others did; nor, it may be, the inclination. No poppy leaves stained her cheeks, no powder whitened her forehead, no foreign coils of hair swelled out the moderate portion which was of home growth. And no extra-high heels put her further up in the world than she was by nature. Her shoes were "common sense"; her gloves were large enough to button all the way; her parasol was brown, and she had a trick of saying nothing she did not mean.
No girl who behaves herself will ever be slighted at West Point; cadets are too courteous and too chivalrous as well. But in view of all I have told of Miss Bee, you will easily guess that her place in the public interest was small. Everyone was polite to her, but no one missed her, or looked for her, or wondered where she was. Cadets never scowled at each other for her sake; and pretty girls never cared what she had on. Yet perhaps among them all there was not one who tasted every crumb of pleasure with such keen relish as Miss Bee. She had had so little of it in her life, poor child! This was her first real outing. No wonder West Point was fairyland, and every cadet a born prince in disguise.
At first, indeed, she was terribly afraid of them; conscious, perhaps, of her own lack of "fetching" qualities, but by degrees that changed a little. The innocent colour started to her cheeks as readily as ever, when some grey uniform came up with:
"Good-evening, Miss Bee. How did you enjoy the Light Battery this morning?"