If Cadet Kindred rose up next morning with the very spirit of the Crusades astir in his heart; ready to charge down upon the Saracens, lance in rest; he said to himself as the day went on, that if Mr. Wayne had ever been a West Point cadet, that gentleman would know some things he did not know now. Here had Magnus been dreaming all night how he knocked a bumper out of Randolph's hand; how he had run Rig up to the first section in French; and how he had pitched Clinker back over the Commissary wall, just in time to prevent his being missed and "skinned." Also how he himself had been publicly thanked for these exploits by the Academic Board in full session. But, alas! "the stuff that dreams are made of" fades in the morning sun, and from these pleasing nocturnal visions Mr. Kindred passed to a particularly tough recitation, with corresponding low marks, and thence to the stubbornest horse in the hall, that would not take the hurdles, and made him instead take the tan. And now, as he sat in his room, tired and growly, the mail brought him nothing but a desperately perfumed pink note. Magnus said "Phew!" and moved to the window. "Sent the whole shop, hasn't she?" said Rig. "That's Mrs. Newcomb, a mile off." "Just listen, will you?" said Magnus. "She wants to give a picnic on Crownest, and tells me to bring men enough for five girls! How many apiece, do you suppose?" "Unknown quantity; all depends on the girls. Who are they?" "Doesn't tell. Miss Pretty, of course, for one; she is a niece or something. Then there's another girl, 'just from abroad,'--'and the rest you know.' Well, I'll take the new girl, at a venture." "Then you'll not have to think up any new grinds," said Rig. "Lucky man. And I'll take Miss Pretty. If she's heard all mine before, she won't say so. So we are two." "And Clinker's three----" "What do you have him for?" said Rig. "He's in every single thing--when he isn't on the area." "She wants him. By name," said Magnus. "Hopes 'dear Mr. Clinker will be at leisure.'" "That's a neat way of hoping he's out of Con." said Rig. "Say, didn't she have a granddaughter or something, getting rubbed up in Paris? That's the new girl." "Granddaughter!" said Magnus. "Just let Mrs. Newcomb hear you say that! But I'll take the rubbed-up girl, whoever she is, my risk. And Miss Frisk will take _you_. She's sure to be along." "Sure to get Clinker, if she is," said Rig. "Wonder if the little Busy Bee will come? Kin, you're hard on that girl." "Don't want me to be soft, do you?" said Magnus, with the drum cutting him short. Of course the names of the party were all out before Saturday; the girls could not talk of much else. And as for cadets, each girl might have had five, had the limits of the lunch basket agreed thereto. The day was perfect, the dresses faultless, and Mr. Clinker happily "at leisure," for once.