coat, which when pulled up disclosed his leggins neatly strapped over
patent leather dancing pumps. It was an astounding sight. One that
filled me with profound emotion.

"Aren't you a trifle out of uniform, Ardy?" I asked him. One has to be
so delicate with Ardy, he's that sensitive. "Why, I thought I might
as well embellish myself a bit," says Ardy.

"You've done all of that," says I, "but for heaven's sake, dear, do
keep away from Fourteenth Street; there are numerous sea-going sailors
down there who might embellish you still further."

"My God!" cries Ardy, striving to crush the wind out of the horn, "I
never slum."

"Don't," says I, passing inside to shake hands with several of my
friends behind the mahogany. Shake hands, alas, was all I did.

_March 26th._ I must speak about the examinations before I forget it.
What a clubby time we had of it. I got in a trifle wrong at the start
on account of my sociable nature. You know, I thought it was a sort of
a farewell reception given by the officers and the C.P.O.'s to the men
departing after their twenty-one days in Probation, so the first thing
I did when I went in was to shake hands with an Ensign, who I thought
was receiving. He got rid of my hand with the same briskness that one
removes a live coal from one's person. The whole proceeding struck me
as being a sort of charity bazaar. People were wandering around from
booth to booth, in a pleasant sociable manner, passing a word here and
sitting down there in the easiest-going way imaginable. Leaving the
Ensign rather abruptly, I attached myself to the throng and started in
search of ice cream and cake. This brought me up at a table where
there was a very pleasant looking C.P.O. holding sway, and with him I
thought I would hold a few words. What was my horror on hearing him
snap out in a very crusty manner:

"How often do you change your socks?"

This is a question I allow no man to ask me. It is particularly
objectionable. "Why, sir," I replied, "don't you think you are
slightly overstepping the bounds of good taste? One does not even jest
about such totally personal matters, ye know." Then rising, I was
about to walk away without even waiting for his reply, but he called
me back and handed me my paper, on which he had written "Impossible"
and underlined it.

The next booth I visited seemed to be a little more hospitable, so I
sat down with the rest of the fellows and prepared to talk of the
events of the p