"We can't do much, except what we came out to do," Dave reminded Joyce. "We can just walk about and stretch our legs, look in at a few store windows and make a few trifling purchases that won't exhaust our small store of pocket money."
"Exciting prospect!" remarked Joyce.
"Well, what ails you?" demanded Dalzell with unusual quietness. "What do you want to do? Something that will get us into big trouble with the O.C. and the com.?"
"Joyce can't tell you what he longs for, for he doesn't know himself," explained Dave.
"But I know. He wants to do something irregular; anything that is slightly in breach of the regulations—something that will get him hauled up before the O.C. and the pap."
"You're a wonderful guesser," laughed Joyce. "Well, I'll admit that I'm simply restless, and that anything that will stir my blood and my liver will fill the bill. I'm afraid I'm so depraved to-night that even a street-fight wouldn't go against the grain."
"You'd better forget it," advised Darrin quietly. "It's a dangerous frame of mind for a future officer and gentleman, who must acquire control over himself before he can be fit to command men."
"You talk like a padre!" (chaplain) uttered Joyce in disgust "Can't you forget, for one evening, that you're a midshipman?"
"No; I don't want to," Dave returned quietly.
"Prig!" uttered Joyce again, and this time he did not take the pains to speak under his breath. But Darrin only smiled indulgently.