Then assembly sounded, and, at the sergeants’ command, the companies fell into line on their separate parade-grounds. As the signal ceased, the order Left—Face rang out and the cadets turned sharply in their places before being brought to support arms, by order of the first sergeant. A few moments later, the trumpets sounded the quick notes of adjutant’s call, and Adjutant Sterne and Sergeant-Major Arnold, with their markers, marched across to the regimental parade-ground, where they took up their positions, Alex to the right, Leon on the left, while company after company was led forward by its captain, dressed in line and brought to support arms. As Lieutenant Wilde took his place, as commanding officer, at a little distance in front of the battalion, the adjutant ordered the captains to bring their companies to parade rest, the butt of every piece fell to the ground, its barrel grasped with both hands before the breast, and the cadets stood at parade rest, while the band sounded off, marching along the line from right to left and back again.
It was all so beautiful, with the warm June sun glowing down over the grounds and buildings, and touching with a golden light the uniforms and gleaming bayonets of the cadets, that the lookers-on were hushed in admiration. Not a sound broke the stillness, but the gay notes of the band, not a motion disturbed the absolute quiet of the ranks, but the flutter of the stars and stripes which were softly stirred by the little breeze that stole down from the hills. Dorothy’s eyes moved up and down the line, rested proudly upon Leon’s slim, straight figure, then turned to the opposite side of the parade-ground, where Adjutant Sterne stood resting his clasped hands upon the grip of his sword.
But the band had returned to its former position, and Adjutant Sterne stepped forward to order the ranks opened, verify the alignment of officers and men, and bring the cadets to present arms, before saluting Lieutenant Wilde, and making the report,—
“Sir, the parade is formed.”
“Take your post, Sir!” ordered Lieutenant Wilde, and Alex moved to his place behind him and at his left, as Lieutenant Wilde drew his sword and issued a succession of quick orders from the manual of arms.
The drill was a creditable one, both to commandant and cadets, for the months of training had accomplished their work, and officers and men were on their mettle to do their best, before the assembled guests. With the precision of well-adjusted parts of a great machine, the rifles were shifted up and down, to right, to left, then dropped to the ground in order arms, as the adjutant once more advanced to receive the reports from the first sergeants and drum major, who stepped forward to salute and report, then fell back to position, while Adjutant Sterne saluted Lieutenant Wilde again, before making the general report,—
“Sir! All are present or accounted for.”
Then came the concluding ceremony of the parade. At the order, Parade is dismissed, the officers returned their swords to the scabbards, marched towards the centre of the line, then forward, to halt six yards away from the commandant and salute. For an instant they paused, with their hands raised to their visors, while Lieutenant Wilde acknowledged their salute; then, at the same moment, every hand fell to the side. The officers dispersed, the first sergeants marched their companies back to their own grounds, and ninety-one had ended its last parade.
Evening found the doctor’s rooms gay with lights and music and dainty evening gowns. Out on the piazza overlooking the lawn, Dorothy was holding a sort of court, surrounded by a dozen loyal admirers; for the Wilders, one and all, had agreed in pronouncing her the prettiest girl present. As she rested there, with the full moon shining down on her golden hair and white gown, Alex sat on the rail at her right, Louis stood at her left, toying with her great bouquet of white roses, and Harry, Jack, Max and Stanley were at her feet.
“It has been a successful day,” she said, and she lingered over the words as if they held some new, sweet meaning to her which, as yet, the others could not know. “I wonder if any other class was ever quite so fine as ninety-one.”