Dear Sister:
Wasn’t the drill splendid? I knew you would enjoy it. How I wish father and mother had been in New York so they could have seen it.
You looked just stunning in that stylish hat. Stacey said so. You must excuse him if he didn’t pay you very much attention. He could only leave the band during the intermission and of course he had to be polite to Miss Roseveldt. Besides he said I stuck so close to you that he hadn’t any chance. He says he never saw a fellow so spooney over his own sister as I am. I tell him there aren’t many chaps who have such a nice sister as you are, and then we were separated so long that I am making up for lost time.
I am glad you liked the French Army Bicycle drill. That was something quite new. Stacey was detailed to command it because he’s a splendid cyclist himself, and he knew how to put us through. I didn’t know till the day before that he was going to call me out to skirmish. He said: “Jimmy, you can manage your wheel better than any one else except the Woodpecker, and I am going to have you two go through with a little fancy business that will bring the house down.” And didn’t it? When I fired off my gun going at full speed, they clapped so that I nearly lost my head. Ricos was mad because he wasn’t selected for the special manœuvres. Ricos is better for speed than I am, and he’s awfully quick-tempered—he’s a Spaniard, you know, and he said to me, “Never mind, youngster, I’ll pay you up for this at the inter-scholastic races.” I suppose he means to win the gold medal, and I told Stacey that I believed he would, and I should be thankful to be second, or even third, for there are the best cyclists from all the other schools in the city to contend against. But Stacey says, “He can’t do it, you know,” meaning Ricos; and our trainer says that if he enters me at all he enters me to win. So I am going to try my level best.
Wasn’t Cynthia Vaughn stunning in that green dress trimmed with fur! Buttertub said she was the most stylish girl at the drill. Stacey made him mad by saying that she was hardly that, though, as a Harvard chap once said of some one else, he had no doubt that she was a well-meaning girl and a comfort to her mother!
Ricos invited all the Hornets, and some one of them told him that you girls are going to have a great lark—a Catacombing Party. He thought it was to represent the games of the Roman arena with cats instead of lions and tigers. I told him it must be a mistake, and that if he supposed Madame’s young ladies, and my sister especially, would do anything so low as to look on at a cat-fight, he didn’t know what he was talking about. But Stacey said that there was something up, he knew, for when he asked Milly Roseveldt if the girls were going to have a Venetian Fête for the benefit of the Home, as they did last year, she said it was a sheet and pillow-case party this time, and boys were not admitted. He told her he would surely disguise himself in a sheet and pillow-case and come; but he only said so to tease her, and when he saw how distressed she was he told her he was only fooling. Buttertub said Cynthia mentioned it too, and Stacey’s idea was a good one and he believed he should try it. But Stacey said he would like to see him do it and that he would have him court-martialled for ungentlemanly conduct, and reduced to the ranks if he attempted to play the spy at one of the girl’s frolics.
Stacey wanted me to be sure to tell you to tell Milly Roseveldt not to worry about what he said, for the cadets are all gentlemen and wouldn’t think of going anywhere where they were not invited. That’s so as far as Stacey is concerned, but I don’t know about Ricos.
Do tell me what you are going to do, anyway—and for pity’s sake don’t have any cats in it.
Your affectionate brother,
J. H. Armstrong.
Jim’s misunderstanding of the Catacomb Party amused us very much. No one was alarmed by the boys’ threats to attend it but Milly, who insisted that she had no confidence in Stacey and believed him fully capable of committing even this atrocious act.