As for Ruggs, he looked forward to the acceptance of his discharge with as much grace as possible. He had striven honestly, and had apparently made of himself only an object for laughter, but he was far from giving up. Several candidates had confided to him their disappointment, as they would have liked, they said, to see him gain a commission. Indeed they had felt all along that he was going to make good.
Yet the day of his reckoning seemed never to materialize. Men went into the orderly room, and came out with hectic smiles of relief or sickly efforts at cheerfulness, while he watched and waited.
One day, after the first drill, Vance was sitting on his bunk talking finances, when a voice from the other end of the barracks called out,—
'The following men report in the orderly room at once!'
The silence was crisp. Then the voice continued with a list of about ten names, toward the end of which was Ruggs.
'Good-bye, Vance,' said he, rising. He put on his coat and brushed his clothing and shoes carefully.
Vance eyed him narrowly and pityingly during the operation, as much as to say, 'There’s no use taking any more pains with those clothes; you’ll never need them again.'
Ruggs caught the look and understood.
'You see I can’t get out of the habit,' he confessed. 'It’s not so much the clothes as—as—myself.'
At the orderly room door he waited a small eternity before his name was called.