THE TYRANNY OF THE CADET CORPORAL
Dick hung up his coat and hat, and Greg did the same, for the heat was turned on and the room wholly comfortable as to temperature.
"I've heard," murmured Greg, "that fellows usually get most woefully homesick at West Point."
"Then they've no business to come here," retorted Prescott, with spirit. "Such tender ones won't make soldiers anyway."
"I suppose we shall be awfully looked down on at first," mused
Greg aloud.
"Well, we can stand it," laughed Dick. "If we can't, we can't endure lots more of things that are ahead of us."
"Just now I could endure a good, filling meal," sighed Holmes comically.
"Yes?" laughed Prescott. "Then just press the button and the waiter will bring us the bill of fare. I understand that candidates are allowed to have their meals served in rooms. Although I believe it's forbidden for any candidate, or cadet, either, to eat his breakfast in bed."
"Quit your 'kidding,'" begged Greg.
"I don't know that the authorities will bother to feed us, anyway, until we've passed and it's known that we are going to stay and be cadets," laughed young Prescott, feeling around his belt-line, for he, too, was hungry.