"That was a very unladylike trick," said Mrs. Bright. "Girls, I am extremely astonished at you. Rum in tea? Why, I never heard of such a thing." "Oh, aunty," cried Miss Freak, with her hands on her sides, "there's lots of things you never heard of!" "Well, I am glad I have heard of _you_!" said Mrs. Bright, giving Magnus a good grip of her hand. "Glad I have heard you, too. And now I must go." Miss Lane, who had been a keen looker-on at all this, came up a little closer. "How does it work?" she said softly. "You know I warned you those old rules would get in your way." "They have not yet," said Magnus. "I am all standing, thank you." "I see; straighter than ever. It's a great thing to have 'views,'" said Miss Lane, with a laugh. "When they materialise like yours." For a few minutes the air was full of "See you at the New Year's Hop"--"Take you to the Hundredth Night"--"Come for first-class camp." Then the company separated, the lights went out, and the punch bowl was left to its own reflections. XLIII THE HUNDREDTH NIGHT Oh, who will leave West Point retreats, A hundred days to come? Oh, who will walk the city streets, A hundred days to come? Oh, who will wear their suits of cits, Oh, who will boast of spooning fits, Who'll lose their cents but not their wits, A hundred days to come? --_West Point Howitzer of '93._ The January examination that year came on and went off, bearing with it but few wrecks. One or two hard-working men who were cut out for lines of life where mathematics counted less; with two or three careless ones who coveted lines where there was no work at all. And now in everybody's mind the cold days and hard studies ranged themselves in a shortening vista, with June at the end. June! the short word for first-class camp, furlough, yearling camp, and graduation. While to Charlemagne Kindred and many another, was added in the thought of friends at home who had promised to grace June with their presence. Some men talked about this, but he never did--at least, not in full. To his roommate he did sometimes speak of his mother and her coming, but not of his sisters; never of Cherry. No one knew that she existed, except the men who had been there, and they had been very much thrown off to the other girls even then. And as Magnus was extremely popular at West Point, there were always girls at hand to suggest unlimited chaffing, without crossing the continent to find occasion thereto. Letters came and went in troops, of course, but so they did for other men. Three girls he never heard of wrote to Magnus, desiring a correspondence, and he turned the letters over to Mr. Trent, who had quite a lively time. Thus, one way and another, the weeks swung on, and Washington's birthday was close at hand. "One hundred days to June!"