"Any relative of the Darrin mentioned in the elegy you have just been reading?"
"I hope not, sir," replied Dave, fighting to stifle a grin, though it was a sheepish one.
"Mister," stormed Midshipman Denton, "you are attempting to deceive us!"
Dave gazed meekly but inquiringly at the last speaker.
"You are trying to evade the fact that you are the real Darrin, the identical hero whom the 'Bazoo' so lovingly, so reverently describes. Deceit fills your system, mister! You will stand on your head long enough to let it run out of you."
Midshipman Paulson, though an inveterate "runner" of fourth class men, had some regard for the dangers of overstaying the visit, and kept his left eye on the time.
Darrin, standing on his head, became redder of face than ever, for all the blood in his body seemed to be running downward. At last he became so unsteady that twice his feet slipped along the wall, and he had to return to his attitude of standing on his head.
"Better let up on the beast, Paulson," murmured Midshipman Brooks.
"Yes," agreed Paulson. "The warning bell will go in a minute more. Mister, on your feet!"
Dave promptly returned to normal attitude, standing respectfully at attention.