"I'll come," promised our hero, glad of the chance to meet some of his classmates informally.
"It won't be as elaborate as the one I hear you gave," went on Glen, "for I'm not a millionaire," and he laughed. "But I'll do the best I can."
At first Dick thought he was going to have a good time at the affair, for the guests, most of whom were of the "sporting" element, greeted him cordially enough. But when Glen produced several bottles of beer, and some cigars, Dick felt uneasy.
It was an offense, calling for severe punishment, to have intoxicants or tobacco in the academy, and Dick realized that discovery might come any moment. Still, he did not want to bring upon himself ridicule, and perhaps anger, by leaving.
"Have some beer, Hamilton," urged Glen. "It's the right sort of stuff. I had it smuggled in from town. And these are prime cigars. I smuggled some from dad's stock before I came away."
"No, thank you," replied Dick. "I don't care for any."
"What, don't you drink?"
"No."
"Aw, you don't know what life is. Have a cigar then."
"No, I don't smoke, either."
"Humph! You're a regular molly-coddle, you are," said Glen, with a brutal laugh.
