"Sit down and let's have a chat. I'm glad to see you," urged Lieutenant-Commander Stearns.
Mr. Stearns, he of the round, jovial face, gazed at his junior with twinkling eyes.
"Willow," he muttered, "I'm half inclined to believe that you've come to me to make an official report."
"I guess I have," nodded Lieutenant Willow.
"And against some unfortunate midshipman, at that!"
"Against two, at least," sighed Mr. Willow, "and there were others involved in the affair."
"It must be something fearful," said Mr. Stearns, who knew the junior officer's inclination to be duty-mad. "But, see here, if you make an official report you'll force me to take action, even though it's something that I'd secretly slap a midshipman on the shoulder for doing. No—don't begin to talk yet, Willow. Try a cigar and then tell me, personally, what's worrying you. Then perhaps it won't be altogether needful to make an official report."
"I never was able to take you—er—somewhat jovial views of an officer's duty, Stearns," sighed Lieutenant Willow.
Nevertheless, he selected a cigar, bit off the end, lighted it and took a few whiffs, Lieutenant-Commander Stearns all the while regarding his comrade in arms with twinkling eyes.
"Now, fire ahead, Willow," urged the officer in charge, "but please don't make your communication an official one—not at first. Fire ahead, now, Willow."