What's the
matter with you, Holmes? Are you ill?"
For Greg's face, in his efforts to stifle his mirth, had become
violently purple.
"I don't suppose you'll take advice, Dodge," continued Dick. "If I
thought you only could do it I'd advise you to walk mighty slowly
here, keep your lips together and not say a word until you've
learned a lot."
Dick had risen and was standing, unconsciously, in an attitude that
showed off, in his natty cadet uniform, all the strength and grace of
his fine and now well set-up young figure. But Bert, with a desire
to put this other fellow "back where he belonged," remarked
casually:
"Prescott, I don't just like the fit of your coat. Who's your tailor? I
want to get a different one. I'm going in for some of the
swellest-fitting uniforms that any tailor around here can turn out."
Greg, who had managed to breathe naturally for the last minute,
now struggled with another of his purple-faced paroxysms.
"I didn't think to ask who my tailor was," Prescott replied quickly.
"In fact, I don't think I would have been told if I had asked. You
see, every cadet here has to take just what clothes are issued to him
at the cadet store.
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