selves. A few
visitors came to the door and peeped in, to see a famous painting over
the chancel, but finding us there went away again. That old church is so
interesting! Tablets to famous generals everywhere--"

"This isn't a history lesson! Go on with the story!" cried Herbert, who
was so familiar with West Point that he desired no fresh description.

Molly made him a little mocking face and herself took up the tale:

"Well, we had our dinners there, sitting in some of the front pews, and
the way Tom walked into that fried chicken and things would make you
open your eyes. We were all hungry, course, after so early a breakfast,
and the sail down, and all; but Tom was simply ravenous. He was so
hungry he took away our own appetites, just watching. When he'd eaten
all he could there was still a lot of stuff left; and Mrs. Calvert asked
him if he knew any place where we could dispose of it; a garbage can,
she meant, or some waste-box.

"Tom said yes he did, and if she'd excuse him he'd show her. It was what
he called 'slumgudgeon day.' 'Slumgudgeon' is a kind of stew made up of
the leavings of lots of other meals and the poor, darling cadets just
hate it. He said 'cold victuals' never came in as handy as ours did
then. So he unbuttoned his jacket, that fitted him as if he'd been
melted into it, and began to pad himself out with the leavings. Cake and
chickens, pickles and sardines, boiled eggs and fruit--you never saw
such a mess! And the way he packed it in, so as to keep an even sort of
front, was a caution. You know the poor dears have no pockets in their
uniforms. Not allowed. So that was the only way he could take it. He
wanted to share it with his cronies after we'd gone and told Aunty Lu
that it would have been a perfectly wicked shame to have thrown it away,
when it would do him so much good. Oh! we had a glorious time. I do just
love West Point--"

"The cadets, you mean! I never saw a girl that liked the boys so well
as you do, Molly Breckenridge. But I s'pose you can't help it. If 't
wasn't for that you'd be just splendid, and _they_ don't seem to
mind--much--anyway," remarked Alfaretta, beaming upon pretty Molly
with loving smiles. Molly's liking for "boys" seemed to honest,
sensible Alfy the one flaw in an otherwise lovely character.

But Molly tossed her sunny head and laughed. Also, she flashed a
mischievous glance into all the boyish faces turned toward her and on
every one she saw a similar liking an