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.