“You’ll make it, Prescott, just as you’ve made everything you’ve gone after at High School,” replied Dr. Bentley heartily.  “But, now that we’ve congratulated you, we mustn’t keep you an instant longer from your classmates.  I had just come in with my car, and Laura told me, so I directed my man to wait.  He’ll take you both along the road in short order.  Good night, my boy!”

Laura brought her wrap, holding it out to Dick.

“If you’re to be a gallant Army officer,” she teased, “you must learn to do this sort of thing gracefully.”

Blushing, Dick did his best.  Then the young people went out.  Dick helped his companion into the car, then seated himself beside her.

“We’re going to pick up Dave and Belle,” Laura explained, as the car moved swiftly away.  “Then we’ll all go in together.”

One fellow had beaten them to the class ball, and that fellow was Tom Reade.  How he ever did it no one will be able to guess, but Tom flew home, got into his best, and had reached the ball before these young people appeared on the scene.

The happy young candidates-elect went with their companions to the cloak room.  Then, Laura on Dick’s arm, and Belle clinging to Dave, the two couples entered the ballroom.  The strains of a waltz were floating out.  Abruptly the music ceased in the middle of the air, for Reade, standing beside the director, had motioned him to cease playing.

“Classmates and friends!” bellowed Reade, “it is my proud opportunity to-night to be able to be the first to announce to you some wonderful good news.  To-day Dick Prescott, of ours, defeated all other competitors, and has secured the appointment from this district to the United States Military Academy!”

“Wow!  Whoop!” That announcement had them all going.  There was one tremendous, increasing din of noise.  But Tom, jumping up and down, waving both arms and scowling fiercely, finally secured silence.

“Who’s doing this announcing?” he demanded.  “Who’s master of ceremonies, if I am not.  You just wait—–­all of you!  I’ll give you the cue when to turn the noise-works loose.  As I just stated, it’s Dick for West Point, but or, and—–­it’s Dave Darrin for Annapolis at the same time.  Yes, Dave is going to represent this district at Annapolis!”

The musicians were on their feet by this time.  All with a rush the sweet, proud strains rang out: 

"My country, ’tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing!"

Instantly all stood at attention, the young men all over the hail holding themselves with especial erectness.  Not a voice was heard until the good old refrain was through.  To the two happy chums “America” had a newer, stronger meaning.  The spirited air came to them with a new meaning that had never been plain before.

Dick felt the tears in his eyes.  Foolish, o course, but he couldn’t help it!  And choky Dave furtively wished that he dared reach for his handkerchief with all those hundreds of eyes turned on him.