A “soiree” is an institution of the summer encampment.  The plebe who is in for a soiree may be either a man who has committed some direct offence against the upper classmen, or a plebe who has been observed to be simply too b.j. in general.  Mr. Plebe is directed to present himself at the tent of some upper classman.  Several yearlings are here gathered to receive him.  He is taken in hand in no gentle way.  He is rebuked, scored “roasted.”  He is made to feel that he is a disgrace to the United States Military Academy, and that he never will be a particle of value in the Service.  Mr. Plebe is hauled over the coals in a fashion that few civilians could invent or carry out.  Very likely, on top of all the lecturing, the man will be severely hazed.  He is also quite likely, especially if he show impatience, to be called out for a fight.

The b.j.-est plebe, after a soiree by capable yearlings, is always afterwards observed to be a very meek plebe.

The rain continued so long that not only were afternoon drills escaped, but dress parade as well.  It was not, in fact, much before supper time that the rain stopped and the sun came out briefly.  But the brief period of relaxation had been appreciated hugely throughout camp.  Three quarters of the cadets under canvas had found time for at least a two hours’ sleep.

When the battalion marched back from supper, and was dismissed, the young men turned to for their evening of leisure and pleasure.

Over at Cullum Hall there was to be a hop for the evening.

Not all cadets, however, attend hops at any time.

Not long after supper many of the cadets began to dress carefully.

“Going to the hop, old ramrod?” inquired Mr. Furlong, standing just outside his tent while he fitted a pair of white gloves over his hands.

“Not to-night,” returned Dick indifferently.

“Why, do you know, you haven’t shown your face at hop yet?” Furlong demanded.  “Yet when we were under instruction in the plebe class, you turned out to be one of our best dancers.”

“Oh, I’ll be in at one of the hops, later on in the summer,” responded Prescott.

“One?” gasped Furlong.  “Oh, you wild, giddy thing!  You’re going to do better, aren’t you, Holmesy?” continued Furlong, as Dick’s old chum came out, fitting on a pair of white gloves.

“I’m going over and put my head in danger of being punched, I suppose,” grinned Greg.  “I’m going to have the nerve to ’stag it’ tonight.”

The man who “stags it”—–­that is, does not escort any young woman friend to the hop, must needs dance, if at all, with the girl some other cadet has “dragged.”  This sometimes causes bad feeling.

“I’m going to drag a ‘spoony femme’ tonight,” declared Furlong, contentedly.  “She’s no ‘L.P.,’ at that.”

“Dragging a femme” is to escort a young woman to the hop.  If she be “spoony,” that means that she is pretty.  But an “L.P.” is a poor dancer.