"I see that you can't or you won't, understand it, Farley."
"I wish I could understand it!" quivered Farley, who felt far more unhappy than he was willing that Dave should see. In the end, Farley returned to his own room, pondering deeply and trying to think out some plan of speech or of action that would save Midshipman Dave Darrin from the class anger that seemed certain to come.
After supper and just before study time was due, Dave went to Jetson's door and knocked. As he entered he found Warner, the other midshipman quartered there, as well as Jetson.
"Good evening, gentlemen," began Dave, after he had stepped into the room and closed the door.
"Good evening, Darrin," responded Warner, while Jetson merely scowled and picked up a book.
"Warner," went on Dave, "I came here to have a brief talk with Mr.
Jetson. Would it be asking too much to ask you to step outside—unless
Mr. Jetson feels that he would prefer that you remain?"
"Mr. Jetson prefers that Mr. Warner remain, and that Mr. Darrin take himself away with great expedition," broke in Jetson decisively.
But Warner thought differently, and, with a murmured "certainly, Darrin," he left the room.
"I won't ask you to take a seat, Mr. Darrin," said Jetson, "because I'll be candid enough to say that I hope you won't remain long."
"I don't need a seat," laughed Dave easily, "for I've heard that the best Americans transact their business on their feet. Mr. Jetson, I've come on a somewhat embarrassing mission."