"I want to stand at the stern of the steamer, and see West Point's landmarks fade and vanish one by one.

And I don't reckon, suh, that I shall want anyone to talk to me while I'm looking back from the stern of the boat." "Same here," observed Greg, with what was, for him, a considerable display of feeling.
Then the boat swept in, and the West Point party went silently aboard.

All made their way to the stern on the saloon deck.
That evening the class was to meet, for the last time as a whole, at one of the theaters in New York.

And the late cadets would sit together, solidly, as a class.
Friends of graduates who wished would attend the theater, though in seats away from the class.
Dick and Greg's relatives and friends were all to attend.

More, they were to stop at the same hotel.