"If I'm not too abominably b.j., sir, won't you please come to my table and help me bone math?"
It looked like a saving inspiration. As Dick slipped into his chair he signed to Bert Dodge to stand at one end of the table. Judson snatched up one of Dick's mathematical textbooks, opening to one of the first pages at random. Dick turned sideways in his chair, glancing up at the yearling with a rapt expression.
Yearling Pratt slipped into Greg's chair. Holmes and Anstey stood on either side of him. Pratt began rapidly to sketch out a problem that he chanced to remember from plebe year math.
Almost instantly the door swung open. Not one of the cadets happened to be looking in that direction. As Captain Vesey, the tac., white-gloved, stepped into the room he was just in time to hear Cadet Judson say:
"Perhaps if you were to work out a formula in algebra, mister, you would find the idea even more clear. But I think you understand it now."
"Yes, sir, thank you," replied Cadet Prescott.
"This is the way I would explain the problem," murmured Mr. Pratt, to Greg and Anstey. Just at that instant the yearling looked as though butter couldn't melt in his mouth.
Turning a bit, Pratt caught sight of the tac., who stood looking on as though transformed with wonder.
"Attention!" called Pratt at once.
All the others wheeled, Dick rising in order to do so. Six young men who looked intensely earnest over study, faced the O.C. respectfully.