Midshipman Jetson paused a moment, looked Darrin full in the eyes, and then passed on.
"Not promising material to work with, at first," Dave told himself, laughingly.
There was no time for further thought, for it was within two or three minutes for the first formation for morning recitations. Dave ran back to his room, picked up a book and a writing pad.
"How have the fellows been treating you, chum?" asked Dalzell, looking up anxiously.
"To a most liberal dose of advice," laughed Darrin.
Dan sighed.
"Do you wish I'd take some of the advice, old fellow?"
"I don't know that I do," Dan answered slowly and with unwonted gravity for him. "I'm not one of the padre's star young men, and I don't often discourse on morality. Yet I'm inclined to believe that, when a fellow goes contrary to the spirit of the crowd, and is satisfied that he is doing so from generous and manly motives, he is pretty likely to be pursuing the right course. After a fellow has made a real effort to listen to his conscience, I don't believe he is ever wrong in following it."
"Thank you, Danny boy. That's always been the way it has struck me. I don't want to do any injustice to Jetson—or to the class, either."
"If you have to go to Coventry," announced Dalzell, giving a final brushing to his hair and fitting on his cap, "I'm going with you."