At this moment the postman came in, blowing his whistle and rapidly
sorting out a pile of letters, which he dropped on the counter.

"There are probably a lot here for me, mother," smiled Dick. "Shall
I separate then from the business mail?"

"If you will, my boy."

Some dozen of the envelopes proved to be addressed to young Prescott.
Of these two were letters frown West Point classmates. Three
were from old friends in Gridley, sending him congratulations
and expressing the hope of meeting him during his furlough. The
remainder of the letters were mainly invitations of a social nature.

"Odd!" grinned the young soldier. When I was merely a High School
boy I could go a whole month without receiving anything resembling
a social invitation. Now I am receiving them at the rate of a
score a day."

"Well, a West Point cadet is some one socially, is he not?" smiled
Mrs. Prescott.

"I suppose so," nodded Dick. "The truth is, a cadet has so much
social attention paid to him that it is a wonder more of the fellows
are not spoiled."

"Are you going to accept any social invitations while you are home?"
asked his mother.

"That depends," Dick answered. "If invitations come from people