When the battalion marched back from supper, and was dismissed,
the young men turned to for their evening of leisure and pleasure.

Over at Cullum Hall there was to be a hop for the evening.

Not all cadets, however, attend hops at any time.

Not long after supper many of the cadets began to dress carefully.

"Going to the hop, old ramrod?" inquired Mr. Furlong, standing
just outside his tent while he fitted a pair of white gloves over
his hands.

"Not to-night," returned Dick indifferently.

"Why, do you know, you haven't shown your face at hop yet?" Furlong
demanded. "Yet when we were under instruction in the plebe class,
you turned out to be one of our best dancers."

"Oh, I'll be in at one of the hops, later on in the summer," responded
Prescott.

"One?" gasped Furlong. "Oh, you wild, giddy thing! You're going
to do better, aren't you, Holmesy?" continued Furlong, as Dick's
old chum came out, fitting on a pair of white gloves.

"I'm going over and put my head in danger of being punched, I
suppose," grinned Greg. "I'm going to have the nerve to 'stag
it' tonight."