Dick received acceptances from nearly all the lads in his class, but regarding the others he heard nothing, and did not know whether they would come or not. He hoped they would--particularly Dutton and his chums. On the afternoon of the evening on which Dick's spread was to come off, he met Dutton and Stiver on the campus. "Let's see, isn't your spread to-morrow night?" asked Stiver, with studied carelessness. "It's to-night," said Dick, pleasantly. "I hope you are both coming." "I'll see," answered Stiver. "Is there going to be anything to drink?" asked Dutton with a covert sneer. "Lemonade," replied Dick promptly. "Is that all? I should think a millionaire cadet like you would provide champagne; or at least beer." "It's against the rules," said Dick. "Then you'll have some cigars." "No." "Cigarettes then?" "No." "I suppose you'll give us malted milk and crackers," sneered Dutton, as he turned aside. "I don't think that will suit us. Eh, Stiver?" "No indeed. I thought you wanted to be a sport, Hamilton?" "I don't care about breaking rules," replied Dick. "Besides, I don't use tobacco or liquor." "Ah, he's a regular Sunday school brand of millionaire," remarked Dutton, with a mean laugh. "He gives his money to the heathen, instead of buying cigars. Come on, Stiver." At Dick's spread, that night, only a few freshmen came, and, though they tried to be jolly, the affair was a dismal failure, after the elaborate preparations that had been made. None of Dutton's friends came, and not a member of the sporting element. "Dutton told 'em to stay away," said Paul, as he and Dick went to their room, after it was all over. "I suppose so," answered Dick gloomily, and there was a heavy feeling in his heart, that the thought of all his wealth could not lighten. He was beginning to realize what it meant to fulfill the conditions of his mother's will. CHAPTER XII AN ANGRY FARMER "Say, Dick," remarked Paul, the next morning, as they leaped out of bed at the sound of the bugle giving the first call, "that spread must have cost you a pretty penny." "I don't mind that a bit," replied the young millionaire, as he struggled into his uniform. "I'd be willing to spend a lot more if only the fellows would have come. But there's no use crying over spilled milk, as my dad says. Hurry up, Paul. Get this room in shape, or we'll be in for some bad marks at inspection." The cadets quickly had their apartment in good order, and then got ready for breakfast. They were a fine lot of cadets who filed into the mess hall a little later, well set-up young fellows, each with his uniform spick and span, marching with regular step that nearly approached the perfection of the trained soldier. For, such was the discipline at Kentfield, that even green lads quickly fell into the routine, and by this time Dick and the other freshmen carried themselves almost as well as did the senior students.