midshipman gets stuck
on the conduct report."

"I'm going to buy a notebook," asserted Belle, "and write down and
classify some of this jargon. I'd hate to visit a strange country, like
Annapolis, and find I didn't know the language. And, Dave, what sort of
place is Annapolis, anyway?"

"Oh, it's a suburb of the Naval Academy," Dave answered.

"Is it dreadfully hard to keep one's place in his class there?" asked
Belle.

"Well, the average fellow is satisfied if he doesn't 'bust cold,'" Dave
informed her.

"Gracious! What sort of explosion is 'busting cold'?"

"Why, that means getting down pretty close to absolute zero in all
studies. When a fellow has the hard luck to bust cold the superintendent
allows him all his time, thereafter, to go home and look up a more
suitable job than one in the Navy. And when a fellow bilges----"

"Stop!" begged Belle. "Wait!"

She fled from the room, to return presently bearing the prettiest hat
that Dave ever remembered having seen on her shapely young head. In one
hand she carried a dainty parasol that she turned over to him.

"What's the cruise?" asked Darrin, rising.

"I'm going out to get that notebook, now. Please don't talk any more
'midshipman' to me until I get a chance to set the jargon down."

As she stood there, such a pretty and wholesome picture, David Darrin
thought he never before had seen such a pretty girl, nor one dressed in
such exquisite taste. Being a boy, it did not occur to him that Belle
Meade had been engaged for weeks in designing this gown and others that
she meant to wear during his brief stay at home.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Belle.

"What a pity it is that I am doomed to a short life," sighed Darrin.

"A short life? What do you mean?" Belle asked.

"Why, I'm going to be assassinated, the first hop that you attend at the
Naval Academy."

"So I'm a gold brick, am I?" frowned Belle.

"You--a--gold brick?" stammered Dave. "Why, you--oh, go look in the
glass!"

"Who will assassinate you?"

"A committee made up from among the fellows whose names I don't write
down on your dance card. And there are hundreds of them at Annapolis.
You can't dance with them all."

"I don't intend to," replied Belle, with a toss of her head. "I'll
accept, as partners, only those who appear to me the handsomest and most
distinguished looking of the midshipmen. No one else can write his name
on my card."

"Dear girl, I'm afraid you don't understand o