“I am so sorry,” murmured Mrs. Bentley.

“But you will be here until the close of tomorrow afternoon?” asked Dick eagerly.

“We had planned to go away about eleven in the forenoon,” replied Mrs. Bentley.

“Then you girls would miss a stroll along Flirtation Walk,” suggested Cadet Prescott.  “It is a very strange thing for a young lady to go away from West Point and confess that she has not had cadet escort along Flirtation Walk.”

“Then we must stay until to-morrow afternoon; may we not, mother?” pleaded Laura.

“Yes; for I wish you to see the most of West Point and its famous spots.”

“Then to-morrow afternoon you will be able, also, to see dress parade,” Dick suggested.

“Do you forget that tomorrow is Sunday? asked Mrs. Bentley.

“No; we have dress parade on Sunday.”

Mrs. Bentley looked puzzled.  To her it seemed almost sacrilegious to parade on Sunday!

“Wait until you have seen our dress parade,” Greg begged.  “Then you will understand.  It is really as impressive as a religious ceremony; it is the last honors of each day to our country’s flag.”

“Oh,” murmured Mrs. Bentley, looking relieved.

By this time the little party had moved out on to the veranda.

“As there is no dress parade this afternoon,” urged Dick, “may we not take you over, and let you see our camp from the outside.  Then, after supper, we may, if you wish, take you to the camp for a look before going to the hop.”

“As to supper,” went on Mrs. Bentley, “you two young gentlemen must come to the hotel a take the meal with us.  Wait; I will send word to the office that we shall have guests.”

“If you do, you will give the clerk cause for a jolly smile,” explained Prescott, smiling.  “No cadet can possibly eat at the hotel.  There are many regulations that will surprise you, Mrs. Bentley.  I will explain as many as occur to me.”

Prescott walked between Mrs. Bentley and Laura, while Greg came along with Belle just behind them.

“Are you taking me to the hop tonight, Mr. Holmes?” asked Belle with her usual directness.

Poor Greg, seasoned cadet though he was, flushed uncomfortably.

“I should be,” stammered Greg, “but it happens that I am already engaged to drag—–­to escort a young lady to tonight’s hop.”

“I like that word ‘drag’ better than ’escort’,” laughed Belle.

“But Mr. Anstey, our tentmate, is to escort you tonight,” Greg made haste to explain.

“That is the first I have heard of it,” replied Belle, with an odd smile.  “Does Mr. Anstey know about it, either?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” begged Holmes quickly.  “Miss Meade, there are many customs here that are strange to outsiders.  But they are very old customs.”

“Some of them, I suppose,” laughed Belle, “so old that they should be forgotten.”