"Why, they'll be here tomorrow afternoon," throbbed Prescott.
Then and there Prescott stood up in the low-ceilinged tent and tossed his campaign hat up to the ridgepole. That piece of headgear didn't have far to travel, but Dick accompanied it with an "hurrah!" uttered almost under his breath.
"Won't Greg be the tickled boy!" murmured Prescott; joyously.
"Some one from home—-and folks that we both like!"
Presently some of the drill squads returned to camp. Greg and
Anstey came in, warm and curious.
"Did you get into any trouble with the O.C., old ramrod?" questioned
Anstey in his soft voice.
"I don't believe I did," Dick answered.
Anstey nodded his congratulations.
"Greg, old fellow, guess what's going to happen soon?" demanded
Prescott.
"I'd rather you'd tell me."
"Folks from home! Mrs. Bentley, Laura and Belle Meade will be here late tomorrow afternoon!