out all there is behind the
silence."

"I took it for granted that was your purpose," Dick responded.

"Aren't you anxious to hear the news, old ramrod?"

"Yes; very."

"I'm hanged if you look anxious!" muttered Greg, studying his
chum's face keenly.

"I fancy I've got to display a good deal of skill in masking my
feelings," smiled Dick wearily.

"Oh, I don't know," returned Cadet Holmes hopefully. "It may not
turn out to be so bad."

"Then a permanent silence hasn't been imposed?"

"Not yet," replied Greg.

"By which, I suppose, you mean that the length of the silence has
not yet been decided upon."

"It hasn't," Greg declared. "It was only after the biggest, swiftest
and hardest kind of campaign, in fact, that the class was swung
around to the silence. Only a bare majority were wheedled into
voting for it. Nearly half of the class stood out for you stubbornly,
pointing to your record here as a sufficient answer. And that nearly
half are still your warm adherents."

"Yet, of course, they are bound by the majority action?"

"Of course," sighed Greg. "That's the old rule here, isn't it?
Well, to sum it up quickly, old ramrod, the silence has been
put on you, and that's as far as the decision runs up to date.
The class is yet to decide on whether the silence is to be for
a week or a month. Of course, a certain element will do all in
its power to make the silence a permanent thing. Even if it is
made permanent, Dick, you'll stick, won't you?"

"No."

"What?"

"I shall not even try to stick against any permanent silence,"
replied Prescott slowly.

"I thought you had more fight in you than that," muttered Greg
in a tone of astonishment.

"I think I have enough fight," Dick replied with some warmth.
"And I honestly believe I have enough in me to make at least
a moderately capable officer of the Army. But, Greg, I'm not
going to make a stubborn, senseless effort, all through life,
to stay among comrades who don't want me, and who will make it
plain enough that they do not consider me fit to be of their number.
Greg, in such an atmosphere I couldn't bring out the best that is
in me. I couldn't make the most of my own life, or do the best by
those who are dear to me."

There was an almost imperceptible catch in Dick Prescott's voice.
He was thinking of Laura Bentley as the one for whom he had hoped
to do all his best things in life.

"I don't know but you're right, old fellow. But it's fe