"But suppose I fly out too soon?" said Mrs. Kindred, to whose eyes the two thousand miles of space loomed up very large indeed. "You will not," said Rose decidedly. "Conductor will not let you. Read on, mamma, please." So Mrs. Kindred read on, only to get more hopelessly mixed as to the real state of things. "Skins" and "scalps"--third-class corporals and the Antipodes; laying it off on the West Point vernacular did not clear up the meaning a bit. And when the letter had been read carefully twice through from end to end, Mrs. Kindred laid it down and calmly announced that she should set off for the East as soon as she could get ready. And the girls kissed her and cheered her, and only wished they could go too. And things turned out a good deal as they had said. Mr. Thorn not only bought her ticket, but put her in careful charge of the conductor. The girls packed the modest little trunk, stowing in all the gingercakes there was room for; Violet laid in a dainty handkerchief embroidered with the young cadet's initials, Rose added a small pincushion "to go in his pocket," and Cherry, with some demurs, sent him her last little drawing of the old apple tree which had been his own special private gymnasium. Cherry had a very pretty knack with her pencil. Then they all went to the station to see her off, even some of the neighbours joining in. "It's a clear Providence your goin', Mrs. Kindred," said one good woman, whose husband had come West looking for "royal roads" to wealth and place. "Now you kin tell us all about it, for sen' Magnus went, we've been athinkin' o' sendin' our Bill. He's a dreffle shiftless feller: don't take after me, if I do say it. Bill just despises work in any shape or way, and so his father kinder thought maybe he'd do for West Point. They'd pull him through, likely, just as they do the rest, and then he'd he provided for." Happily, the train came, and nobody could answer. The girls went home and held an indignation meeting, and Mrs. Kindred rolled swiftly away, very soon forgetting everything else in the one thought that she was going to see her boy. XVII THREE CHEERS AND A TIGER 'Twas morn, a most auspicious one: From the golden East the golden sun Came forth his glorious race to run, Through clouds of most splendid tinges. Clouds that lately slept in shade, But now seemed made Of gold brocade; With magnificent golden fringes. --HOOD. Yes, it was a royal August day. The last summer month has a very different character in different places. In town, where, instead of "Three months of sunshine bound in sheaves" you have the same stored up in pavements and glowing from brown stone fronts, it is a time which men naturally enough choose for their vacation, and leave the city home behind them as fast and as far as they can. September rains may clear the air, but till then, away.