pital apprentice begun to punch the guy in the ribs,
shouting as he did so:

"Wait a minute, can't you?"

At which the recruit, a great hulk of a fellow, delivered the hospital
apprentice a resounding blow in the stomach and turned indignantly to
the doctor.

"That man's interfering," he said in an injured voice. "Now that ain't
fair, is it, doc?"

"You pass," said the doctor briefly, producing his handkerchief and
mopping his brow.

"Well, what are you standing around for?" he said a moment later,
spying me in my corner.

"Oh, doctor," I cried, delighted, "I thought you had forgotten me."

"No," said the doctor, "I'll never forget you. You pass. Take your
papers and clear out."

I can now feel with a certain degree of security that I am in the
Navy.

_Feb. 26th._ I broke the news to mother to-day and she took it like a
little gentleman, only crying on twelve different occasions. I had
estimated it much higher than that.

After dinner she read me a list of the things I was to take with me to
camp, among which were several sorts of life preservers, an electric
bed warmer and a pair of dancing pumps.

"Why not include spurs?" I asked, referring to the pumps. "I'd look
very crisp in spurs, and they would help me in climbing the rigging."

"But some officer might ask you to a dance," protested mother.

"Mother," I replied firmly, "I have decided to decline all social
engagements during my first few weeks in camp. You can send the pumps
when I write for them."

A card came to-day ordering me to report on March 1st. Consequently I
am not quite myself.

_Feb. 27th._ Mother hurried into my room this morning and started to
pack my trunk. She had gotten five sweaters, three helmets and two
dozen pairs of socks into it before I could stop her. When I explained
to her that I wasn't going to take a trunk she almost broke down.

"But at least," she said, brightening up, "I can go along with you and
see that you are nice and comfortable in your room."

"You seem to think that I am going to some swell boarding school,
mother," I replied from the bed. "You see, we don't have rooms to
ourselves. I understand that we sleep in bays."

"Don't jest," cried mother. "It's too horrible!"

Then I explained to her that a bay was a compartment of a barracks in
which eight human beings and one petty officer, not quite so human,
were supposed to dwell in intimacy and, as far as possible, concord.

This distressed poor