"Sir, the orders are published."
"Dismiss the parade, sir!"
Another skilful pirouette, and the adjutant faces the line and sheathes his sword.
"Parade dismissed!"
The swords of all the cadet officers rattle down into the scabbard, the adjutant steps loftily back to his old place by the line.
"Forward! Guide centre! March!"
And with another gay burst of music, the cadet officers come forward, salute the officer in charge, and disperse (in these days draw up behind him); the long, grey line breaks into companies, the music changes its measure, and away they all go to barracks, to the sweet strains of "Pop Goes the Weasel!" Every right arm swings just so, every black shoe sole displays its regulation state, in most regulation order. But how many furtive blessings brushed the head of Cadet Kindred as he went by, that obtuse young fellow never guessed.
Tea at the hotel, after all this, was prosaic enough, but doubtless the most soaring bird comes down to rest, and finds the lower lands quite bearable, with further flight in prospect. So the two girls relished their bread and butter and strawberries with no alloy, for was not Magnus coming after supper for a walk? Magnus, and perhaps two more.
"Everything is so unusual," Rose said; "it makes one feel quite distinguished. Think of walking 'till call to quarters!"
"Yes, think of it," said Mrs. Congressman, carefully creaming her black tea. "Then you've been in the cars night and day since Monday. You must excuse me, young ladies. I know girls are untirable where cadets are concerned, but I am too old a bird for that sort of chaff, and I am going straight to my bed, as soon as I see you off. With your brother along, you'll not need me."