"Greg, if I can kill math.

to my satisfaction this year, I shan't have another doubt about being able to get through and graduate here!" It was the end of November by this time, and Dick, on Thursday of this successful week, received a letter to the effect that Laura and Belle would arrive at West Point on Saturday afternoon at one o'clock.
The news nearly broke up Prescott's three hours of study that Thursday evening.

However, he fought off the feeling of excitement and hampering delight.
When Dick marched with his section into mathematics Friday morning he felt a calm confidence that he would keep up the average of his fine performance for the week.
"Mr.Furlong, Mr.Dunstan, Mr.Prescott and Mr.Gray, go to the blackboards," ordered Captain Abbott.

"The other gentlemen will recite from their seats." Stepping nimbly over to the blackboard, in one corner of which his name had been written, Dick picked up the chalk, setting down the preliminaries of the problem assigned to him.

Then his chalk ran nimbly along over the first lines of his demonstration.
At last he stopped.