Midshipman Pennington was chuckling deeply over the supposed fact that
he had at last succeeded in bringing Darrin in for as many demerits as
Darrin had helped heap upon him.

"That'll break his heart as an avowed greaser," Pen told himself. "With
all the demerits Darrin will get, he'll have no heart for greasing the
rest of this year. It's rough on Farley, but I'm not quite as sorry for
Dalzell, who, in his way, is almost as bad as Darrin. He's Darrin's
cuckoo and shadow, anyway. Oh, I wish I could see Darrin's face now!"

This last was uttered just as Midshipman Pennington stepped into line at
the supper formation.

"I wish I could see Darrin's face now!" Pen repeated to himself.

Seldom has a wish been more quickly gratified. For, just in the nick of
time to avoid being reported, Midshipmen Darrin, Dalzell and Farley came
into sight, falling into their respective places.

At that instant it was Midshipman Pennington's face, not Dave Darrin's,
that was really worth studying.

"Now how did the shameless greaser work this!" Pennington pondered
uneasily.

But, of course, he couldn't ask. He could only hope that, presently, he
would hear the whole story from some other man in the class.