"'I want you to be satisfied with what I get you, and I think the best way would be to let you pick it out yourself. So if you will look over some catalogues, which you can send for yourself, and let me know the make of car, I will attend to the rest'"
"A terrible waste!" muttered Mr. Larabee. "Sinful!"
"Good old dad!" exclaimed Dick, as he put the letter in his pocket. "I wonder what sort of a car I ought to take?"
"One that you can cross the country in," advised Paul.
"That's what I'll do--I'll get a big touring car, and take some of you fellows with me. We'll have a great and glorious trip this summer!"
"More waste! You would much better get work somewhere, Dick, and pay part of your expenses here," declared Mr. Larabee.
"My mother arranged all that before she died," said the young cadet. "She wanted me to attend a military school, and left the funds for it. My tuition is all paid for."
"Well, my sister never did know what she was doing," declared Mr. Larabee, bitterly.
"Hold on!" exclaimed Dick, hotly. "Remember that she was _my_ mother," and he spoke the word softly, for she had not been dead many years.
"Ahem! Wa'al, I didn't mean anything," stammered Mr. Larabee. "Say, I've got to hustle to get my train," he added, quickly, looking at an ancient silver watch, which he pulled out of his pocket by means of a leather thong. "Come and see us at Dankville, Nephew Richard. Your aunt will be glad to have you, but you can't expect such meals as this," he went on hastily. "You know she has the dyspepsia, and she can't eat much, so I don't buy much. But come and see us."
Dick mumbled something not quite distinguishable, and the meal came to an end.
"I guess I'll just take some of this meat that's left over, and make myself a couple of sandwiches," said Mr. Larabee, suiting the action to the word. "No use in letting it go to waste," he added. "And I might get hungry before we get to Dankville. This will save me buying anything on the train," and wrapping up the sandwiches in a piece of newspaper he thrust them into his pocket.
"Thank goodness I didn't take him to one of the tables with the fellows!" whispered Dick, as he winked at Paul. "He sure is the limit!"
"This way to the trolley that goes to the depot," said Dick, as he escorted his uncle across the parade ground, Paul having excused himself.
