"Yes," Dave answered, laying his novel aside after having thrust an envelope between pages to hold the place. "Come in, Farl."
"Where's Dalzell?" inquired Farley, after having closed the door behind him.
"Until this moment I thought that he was in your room."
"I haven't seen him all evening," Farley responded. "Page and I have been yawning ourselves to death."
"Danny boy is visiting some other crowd, then," guessed Darrin. "He will probably be along soon. Did you want to see him about anything in particular?"
"Oh, no. I came here to escape being bored to death by Page, and poor old Pagey has just fled to Wilson's room to escape being bored by me. What are these Saturday evenings for, anyway, when there's no way of spending them agreeably?"
"For a good many of the men, who want to get through," smiled Dave, "Saturday evening is a heaven-sent chance to do a little more studying against a blue next week. As for Danny boy, I imagine he must have carried his grin up to Wilson's room. Or, maybe, to Jetson's. Danny has plenty of harbors where he's welcome to cast his anchor."
"May I sit down?" queried Mr. Farley.
"Surely, Furl, and with my heartiest apologies for having been too dull to push a chair toward you."
"I can easily help myself," laughed the other midshipman, "since there's only one other chair in the room."