So Douglass, who, in some respects, had a bad memory, piloted his classmate over to the ladies and halted.
"Good evening, ladies," greeted Douglass, raising his uniform
cap in his most polished manner. "Mrs. Bentley, Miss Bentley,
Miss Meade, will you permit me to present my friend and classmate
Mr. Jordan?"
Belle, who was nearest, bowed and held out her hand.
But Laura drew herself up haughtily. "Mr. Douglass," she answered coldly, "my apologies to you, but I don't wish to know—-Mr. Jordan!"
Belle caught the name again, and remembered.
"Oh!" she cried, snatching her hand away ere Jordan could touch it.
"I'm sorry, ladies," stammered Douglass. But they found themselves confronted by rear views of two shapely pairs of young shoulders, while Mrs. Bentley had the air of looking through the young men without being able to see either.
Two very much disconcerted cadets, and very red in the face, stiffly resumed their caps and marched away.
"Great Scott, what did that mean?" gasped Jordan, struck all in a heap by his strange reception.
Cadet Douglass gasped.