The strains of
a waltz were floating out. Abruptly the music ceased in the
middle of the air, for Reade, standing beside the director, had
motioned him to cease playing.
"Classmates and friends!" bellowed Reade, "it is my proud opportunity
to-night to be able to be the first to announce to you some wonderful
good news. To-day Dick Prescott, of ours, defeated all other
competitors, and has secured the appointment from this district
to the United States Military Academy!"
"Wow! Whoop!" That announcement had them all going. There was
one tremendous, increasing din of noise. But Tom, jumping up
and down, waving both arms and scowling fiercely, finally secured
silence.
"Who's doing this announcing?" he demanded. "Who's master of
ceremonies, if I am not. You just wait---all of you! I'll give
you the cue when to turn the noise-works loose. As I just stated,
it's Dick for West Point, but or, and---it's Dave Darrin for Annapolis
at the same time. Yes, Dave is going to represent this district
at Annapolis!"
The musicians were on their feet by this time. All with a rush
the sweet, proud strains rang out:
_"My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing!"_
Instantly all stood at attention, the young men all over the hail
holding themselves with especial erectness. Not a voice was heard
until the good old refrain was through. To the two happy chums
"America" had a newer, stronger meaning.
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