“Well, they needn’t worry. The Government pays for it, really. They just get a little salary each month and their expenses come out of that. Whatever else they have their own people give them. But, anyway, it was just lovely. If I were a boy and didn’t want to be a great scientist, like Jim does, or a banker like Monty, or—or anything else, I’d be an army man.”
“Bother what you’d be, Dolly. You’re only a girl. Go on with the story,” said impatient Leslie, while Lemuel nodded his head in satisfaction. Talk of soldiering touched the warmest spot in the old sharpshooter’s heart. “Do hurry up.”
“Why, after all, there isn’t much to tell—”
“But there is,” cried Molly. “About the luncheon in the church. Listen. We went everywhere about the grounds, saw the riding-school, the mess-room, the dancing-hall and all, a lot of places. Oh! yes, the library, too. Then it got noon and hungry-time and we’d brought an elegant lunch. Cold chicken and sardines and sandwiches and early peaches—the nicest we could get, and Tom’s ‘leave’ gave him a chance to eat it with us. We asked him where we could and he thought a minute, then said in the church. Aunty Lu thought that was dreadful, to eat in a church! But Tom said it was the only place on the Point where we wouldn’t be stared at by others. Folks were everywhere else; cadets and visitors—and oh! It was so pretty. All the white tents on the campus and the darling boys walking about in their white—”
“Nighties?” suggested Monty, maliciously. It had been an ambition of his own to enter the Academy; but his being under age, his size—and several other good reasons, including his utter want of fitness in the matter of book learning—had prevented the realization of this fine dream. His failure had rendered him skeptical of the charms of the famous institution, and he now always mentioned it as a place quite beneath his own notice.
The story promised to be a long one and Lemuel thoughtfully produced a chair and placed it for Mrs. Ford’s use. Her eyes were on Leslie’s interested face and she would gladly have postponed the recital; for, even more than the disgruntled Monty, she disliked the very name of West Point. However, in this matter, as in many future ones, her own fancy was to be set aside by the eagerness of her young guests. So Dorothy went on:
“There wasn’t anybody else in the church except ourselves. A few visitors came to the door and peeped in, to see a famous painting over the chancel, but finding us there went away again. That old church is so interesting! Tablets to famous generals everywhere—”
“This isn’t a history lesson! Go on with the story!” cried Herbert, who was so familiar with West Point that he desired no fresh description.
Molly made him a little mocking face and herself took up the tale:
“Well, we had our dinners there, sitting in some of the front pews, and the way Tom walked into that fried chicken and things would make you open your eyes. We were all hungry, course, after so early a breakfast, and the sail down, and all; but Tom was simply ravenous. He was so hungry he took away our own appetites, just watching. When he’d eaten all he could there was still a lot of stuff left; and Mrs. Calvert asked him if he knew any place where we could dispose of it; a garbage can, she meant, or some waste-box.