"West Point is a developing place, as some wise M. C. said last June. Have the girls grown, mother? How tall is Cherry?" "Grown a little, I think, in several ways. Every day I see her, I think she could not be sweeter--and then the next day I think she is," said Mrs. Kindred warmly. "Bless her dear heart!" Magnus remarked under breath. "Sometimes I think she works too hard," said Mrs. Kindred. "I really believe that child carries a book in her pocket, and studies every chance she gets. She has coaxed the other girls into a sort of class, and for two hours every day they study together." "Good for her!" said Magnus; "good for 'em all. Studies are extremely developing. I wish I could send 'em all mine. I think I have grown enough." "I suppose you carry a book in your pocket, too," said Mrs. Kindred, taking her turn at the irony. "Haven't got one," said Magnus; "or doubtless I should. The books are on hand, but the pocket is wanting." "No pocket?" "No'm. _Now_ you have an idea of desolate destitution." And Magnus raised himself on one elbow again, drew out a white handkerchief from his sleeve, and after a melancholy wave in the air, tucked it back again. "But my dear!" said Mrs. Kindred. "Ah, you see what development costs here," said Magnus. "No wonder I have shot up into the air, that being the only place where I couldn't run against regulations. Just notice to-night at parade what preternaturally tall men we have in the Corps. You see there are no Tacs up overhead,"--and Magnus gazed pathetically into the serene blue. "Stop fooling," said his mother. "Magnus, if you have no pockets--why, I never heard of such doings!--then where do you put anything?" "Up my sleeve." "Nonsense; your sleeve will not hold much to speak of." "No," said Magnus; "and so what it holds is generally _not_ spoken of. In winter we have a resource--a small one; but in summer we should be hard up if it wasn't for the girls." "What have the girls to do with your pockets?" said Mrs. Kindred rather severely. "Would fill them, if we had any. As it is, they fill their own and empty them at our feet." "Magnus, I don't know you," said his mother; "I never heard you talk in that way at home, and I do not like it now." "Well, it's the truth," said Magnus. "The Kitten threw a pear after me yesterday, as I went by; and only this morning Miss Midget pelted the men who were at Derby Drill, from her basket of peaches. What can a man do? You must speak of people as you find them." Mrs. Kindred drew a longer sigh than her boy had done. "If that is for me, you needn't," said Magnus; "Kittens aren't lions, mammy. I'm better off than Daniel, yet. Only his detail of an angel stayed by him,--and mine comes--and will go!" And Magnus brought the beloved hands up to his face again.