"Two years!" Mr. Wayne repeated; adding with a breath that was almost a groan, "Two years out of sight of home! You are going to West Point?" he said the next minute in his quick way.
"Yes, sir. But how did you know?" said the boy, rousing up in his surprise.
"Yankees aren't worth a red cent if they can't guess," said Mr. Wayne, smiling. "Well, that settles the question of supper. If you get to West Point in a die-away condition, they'll not take you in; and you will see the home station quicker than you care about, maybe. The first thing they'll tell you at West Point will be to 'brace up,' so you'd better do a little at it before you get there."
If Magnus was half ready to resent the words he could not, for the merry glance that went with them.
"Were you ever at West Point, sir?"
"Often."
"Well, what sort of a place is it?" said Magnus, sitting straight up in his interest.
"One of the very loveliest places on this fair earth," said Mr. Wayne. "With hills and woods and river that you will lose your heart to, and never get it back."
"Nice people, too?" questioned Magnus.
"All sorts of people. As in every other bit of the world. All sorts."