Dick had graduated as number thirty-four; Greg as thirty-seven.  Either might have chosen the cavalry, or possibly the artillery arm of the service, but both had already expressed a preference for the infantry arm.

“The ‘doughboys’ (infantry) are always the fellows who see the hardest of the fighting in war time,” was the way Dick put it.

Now the superintendent made a few closing remarks.  These finished, the band blared out with a triumphal march, to the first notes of which the first class rose and marched out, amid cheers and hand-clapping, to be followed by the other classes.

Five minutes later the young graduates were laying aside the gray uniform for good and all.  Cit. clothes now went on, and each grad. surveyed himself with some wonder in attire which was so unfamiliar.

Out in the quadrangle, for the last time, the grads. met.  There, too, were the members of the classes remaining, but these latter were still in the cadet gray, and would be until the close of their own grad. days.

Hurried good-byes were said.  Warm handclasps sounded on all sides.  Few words were said, but there were many wet eyes.

Then some of the grads. raced for the station to board the next city-bound train.

Greg remained behind with Dick.  After quitting the quadrangle, they bent swift steps toward the hotel, where awaited Mrs. Prescott, Mrs. Bentley, Laura and Belle.

Something else waited, too—–­a carriage, or rather, a small bus, for Dick and Greg were no longer cadets and might ride over the post in a carriage if they chose.

“It was beautifully impressive, dear,” whispered Laura, referring to the graduating exercises.

“But, thank goodness, it’s over, and I have my diploma in this suit case,” murmured Dick grimly.  “No more fearful grind, such as we’ve been going through for more than four years.  No more tortured doubts as to whether we’ll ever grad. and get our commissions in the Army.  That is settled, now.  And think, Laura, if I hear a bugle in the city to-morrow morning, I can simply turn over and take another nap.”

“You lazy boy!” laughed Laura half chidingly.

“You spend four years and three months here, and see if you don’t feel the same way about it,” smiled Dick.  “But I love every gray stone in these grand old buildings, just the same.  West Point shall be ever dear in my memory!”

Greg’s mother now came out and joined the ladies on the porch.  A moment or two later Mr. Prescott and Mr. Holmes stepped out and grasped their sons’ hands.

“We haven’t a heap of time left if we want to catch the down-river steamboat,” suggested Dick, with a glance at his watch.

So this happy little home party entered the bus, and the drive to the dock began.

They passed scores of cadets, who carefully saluted these grads.

Everyone in the party knew of the betrothal of Dick and Laura.  Greg had had to stand a good deal of good-natured chaffing from his parents because he had not fared as well.