"Greg must hear of this," muttered the new plebe.
Going down the street at military stride, Cadet Prescott turned in at
the north sally port, stepped briskly along one of the walks,
bounded up the steps and in at the outer door of the subdivision in
which he dwelt.
Up the stairs with considerable speed went Cadet Prescott, still
revolving in his mind the news upon which he had stumbled.
"What on earth will Greg think?" throbbed the new plebe.
In a very short time Prescott's hurrying feet carried him to the door
of his room on the top floor. The door yielded as Dick put his hand
to the knob.
"Greg, what do you think?" whispered Dick breathlessly, as he
went quickly into the room and toward his roommate, who sat bent
over his study table.
The very attitude was unmilitary--a fact that struck Prescott
suddenly.
Then Greg, hearing his roommate's voice, raised his head
somewhat and wheeled about in his chair.
What a woebegone face Cadet Gregory Holmes presented!
"Greg, what on earth is the matter?" demanded Dick, halting short
and staring hard.
"I can't help it," replied Greg miserably, shaking his head.
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