"The average cadet has not much, when there are girls around," said Magnus. "He has such hard rubs all day from the Profs and Tacs that their soft ways get the better of him."
"We have no soft ways, here," said Rose decidedly.
"Not for me, I know; but wait till Twinkle comes along."
"Twinkle—what a name!" said Violet.
"He couldn't miss it, being a small man called Starr," said Magnus. "And he's not a blazer, by any means; keeps down well near the horizon, and never even poses as a first-magnitude man. Sometimes when he fesses more than usually frigid, we sing him to sleep with:
"Twinkle! Twinkle! little Starr!
How I wonder what you are."
"I think that is perfectly mean!" said Rose indignantly. "Making sport of each other's misfortunes."
"We should die if we didn't make sport of something," said Magnus. "And you laugh easier when you take another man's scalp, than when he takes yours."
"Well, of all the lingo that ever was heard, I think your cadet slang is the queerest," said Violet.
"Glad it meets your approval," Magnus said, with a bow. "Say, Cherry, just promise you'll walk with nobody but me, while those fellows are here. Have a previous every time. These girls are so keen-set for brotherly kindness that they'll be sacrificing themselves on me to let you have the strangers. You're too tall for Twinkle, and Rig will turn your head."