"You don't mean to go and dance?"
"Exactly," said Mark.
Grace Fuller glanced at him in horror for a moment, and then as she saw his merry eyes twinkle a vague idea of what he meant began to occur to her. She began to see the possibilities of the affair, just as Mark had seen them. He might get all the girls to dance with him; he might have the yearlings perfectly furious, raving; he might dump West Point traditions all at once, all in a heap, and with a dull, sickening thud at that.
As she began to realize all this, Mark was gazing into her eyes; he saw them begin to dance and twinkle just as his had. And he laughed softly to himself.
"Our angel has not failed us," he whispered. "I knew she would not. Will you help us?"
And Grace answered simply that she would. But she set her teeth together with a snap that meant much.
It meant that Mark Mallory was to be the first plebe ever to dance at a West Point hop.
CHAPTER XVI.
SETTING THE TRAP.
The dinner hour had passed, likewise the second policing of the day had been attended to by the humble plebes. The afternoon's drill was over; it was time for full dress parade.