"My mother arranged all that before she died," said the young cadet. "She wanted me to attend a military school, and left the funds for it. My tuition is all paid for."
"Well, my sister never did know what she was doing," declared Mr. Larabee, bitterly.
"Hold on!" exclaimed Dick, hotly. "Remember that she was my mother," and he spoke the word softly, for she had not been dead many years.
"Ahem! Wa'al, I didn't mean anything," stammered Mr. Larabee. "Say, I've got to hustle to get my train," he added, quickly, looking at an ancient silver watch, which he pulled out of his pocket by means of a leather thong. "Come and see us at Dankville, Nephew Richard. Your aunt will be glad to have you, but you can't expect such meals as this," he went on hastily. "You know she has the dyspepsia, and she can't eat much, so I don't buy much. But come and see us."
Dick mumbled something not quite distinguishable, and the meal came to an end.
"I guess I'll just take some of this meat that's left over, and make myself a couple of sandwiches," said Mr. Larabee, suiting the action to the word. "No use in letting it go to waste," he added. "And I might get hungry before we get to Dankville. This will save me buying anything on the train," and wrapping up the sandwiches in a piece of newspaper he thrust them into his pocket.
"Thank goodness I didn't take him to one of the tables with the fellows!" whispered Dick, as he winked at Paul. "He sure is the limit!"
"This way to the trolley that goes to the depot," said Dick, as he escorted his uncle across the parade ground, Paul having excused himself.
"I'm not going to take the trolley, Nephew Richard. I have plenty of time to walk the distance, and there is no use wasting five cents. It is grass most of the way, and I won't wear out my shoes none to speak of. I'm going to walk."
"All right," assented Dick, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Good-bye. I'd go with you, but we have guard mount soon, and I'm officer of the day."