“Hold on, there, Mr. Jetson!”

“Well?” demanded Jetson, halting and looking back.

“I don’t like your tone, sir.”

“And I don’t like your face, sir,” retorted Jetson.  “Nor your cheek, either, for that matter.”

“I tried to treat you pleasantly,” Dave went on, hurt and offended.

“Oh!  It required an effort, did it?” sneered Jetson.

“Something may have happened that I don’t know anything about,” Darrin continued.  “It may be that you have some real reason for treating me as you have just done.  If you have any good reason I wish you’d tell me, for in that case I must have done something that put me in wrong.  If that’s the case, I want to make amends.”

“Oh—­bosh!” grumbled the other midshipman.

“Come on, now!” urged Dave.  “Be a man!”

“Then you imply that I am not?” demanded Jetson aggressively.

“Not necessarily,” Dave contended.  “I just want to make sure, in my own mind, and I should think you’d be similarly interested.”

“If you want to insult me, Mr. Darrin,” flared back Jetson, “I’ll remain here long enough to hear you and to arrange for resenting the insult.  Otherwise—­”

“Well?” insisted Dave quietly, though his anger was rising.  “Otherwise?”

“Otherwise,” retorted Midshipman Jetson, “I’ll pursue my way and seek company that pleases me better.”

“Look out, Jet, old hot-plate!” laughed Joyce.  “You’ll soon be insulting all three of us.”

“I don’t intend to,” Jetson rejoined quickly.  “My quarrel concerns only Mr. Darrin.”

“Oho!” murmured Dave.  “There is a quarrel, then?”

“If you choose to pick one.”

“But I don’t, Mr. Jetson.  Quarreling is out of my line.  If I’ve done you any harm or any injustice I’m ready to make good by apologies and otherwise.  And, if I haven’t wronged you in any way, you should be equally manly and apologize for your treatment of me just now.”

“Oh, bosh!” snapped Mr. Jetson once more.

“This is none of my quarrel,” interposed Midshipman Joyce, “and I’m not intentionally a promoter of hard feeling.  But it seems to me, Jet, that Darry has spoken as fairly as any fellow could.  Now, it seems to me that it’s up to you to be equally manly.”

“So you, too, are asserting that I’m not manly,” bristled Mr. Jetson haughtily.  “You all seem bound to force trouble on me to-night.”

“Not I, then,” retorted Joyce, his spirit rising.  “I’m finding myself forced to the belief that you’re hardly worth having trouble with.”

Jetson clenched his fists, taking a step forward, his dark eyes flashing.  Then he halted, as though implying that he was not thus easily to be driven into forgetting himself.

“Come along, fellows,” urged Dan Dalzell in a low voice.  “Mr. Jetson seems to have no intention either of explaining or of affording other satisfaction.”

“Hold on, Mr. Jetson, you needn’t answer him,” interposed Darrin quickly, as Jetson opened his mouth.  “First of all this affair seems to concern me.  You’ve intimated that I’m no friend of yours and not worthy to be ranked as such.  Now, I ask you, fairly and flatly, what has brought your mind to this pitch?  What have I done, or what haven’t I done?”