"It served us right," grunted Darrin, "if we imagined that we were going to get through without real work. Danny boy, I don't believe there's a single thing in life—worth having—a fellow can get without working hard for it!"
"There goes the call for mathematics, Dave. We'll tumble out and see whether we can get a two-six today.
"Or a two-seven," suggested Darrin hopefully. "My, but how far away a full four seems!
"Did anyone ever get a full four?" asked Dan, opening his eyes very wide.
As each, with his uniform cap set squarely on, and his book and papers carried in left hand, turned out, he found the corridor to be swarming with midshipmen fully as anxious as were this pair.
A minute later hundreds of midshipmen were forming by classes. Then the classes parted into sections and the little groups marched away in many directions, all going at brisk military gait. Dave got through better, that forenoon, than usual. He made a three-one, while Dalzell scored a two-eight.
Then this section, one of many, marched back.
As Dave and Dan swung down the corridor, and into their own room, they halted, just inside the door, and came quickly to attention. Lieutenant Hall, the officer in charge for the day, stood there, and with him the midshipman who served as assistant cadet officer of the day.
"Mr. Darrin," spoke Lieutenant Hall severely, "here is your dress jacket on the floor, and with dust ground into it."
"Yes, sir," replied Dave, saluting. "But I left it on its proper hook—I am sure of that."