"Hotel?" inquired Greg.
"Yes," nodded Mr. Furlong, turning to leave. "Miss Wilton. I don't believe you've met her. Unless she dislikes your looks I may present you to her."
"Do," begged Greg. "I'd enjoy going through a few dreamy numbers."
Mr. Furlong, having permission to go to the hotel for Miss Wilton, started off, moving at his best soldier's step. After registering at the hotel office, in the book kept for that purpose, as every cadet is required to do, Mr. Furlong hoped for several minutes of talk with his pretty partner, either in a corner of the parlor, or on the veranda. Only the parlor and the veranda are open to cadets having permission to call at the hotel.
Greg, having no companion to go after, brought out his stool and seated himself beside Dick in front of the tent.
"Why don't you go over to the hop tonight, Dick?" Greg asked.
"Mainly because I don't wish to," replied Prescott, with a smile.
"Granted. But I am rather wondering why you don't wish to."
"I think you can keep a secret, Greg," replied his old Gridley chum, looking quizzically at Holmes. "Greg, I'm too awfully lonesome to trust myself at the hop tonight.
"Eh? Why, old ramrod, the hop ought to be the very place to lose that lonesome feeling."