“The family is surely getting together,” remarked Dick, after another handshaking had been indulged in.  “Songbird, do you warble as much as ever?”

“You can wager a sweet potato he does,” said George Granbury.  “Nothing short of a cyclone will ever stop Songbird’s warbling, eh, Songbird?”

For reply the youth addressed turned a pair of dreamy eyes on the speaker, and then said slowly: 

“With hopeful hearts
And brightest faces,
To school we go
To fill our places. 
We’ll study hard,
And do our best—­”

“If Songbird Powell
Will give us a rest!”

finished Tom.  “Oh, Songbird, have mercy on us, and don’t begin so early.”

“You’re a good one to preach, Tom,” came from Larry.  “Started to joke the moment we met him, didn’t he, Hans?”

“Did I?” questioned Tom innocently.  “I had forgotten.”  He turned to Tubbs.  “And how is our friend Philliam Willander to-day?”

“William Philander, if you please, Rover,” was the dignified reply.  “I must insist on your getting my name correctly this term.”

“All right, Tubby, old boy, it shall be just as you say.  I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for a big red apple.”

“Then, please don’t call me Tubby.  You know my real name is William Philander Tubbs.”

“Don’t you want Esquire tacked to it, too?”

“That is hardly necessary as yet.  But you may write it after my name, if you have occasion to send me any written communication,” continued Tubbs, with greater dignity than ever.

“Phew! but Tubby is worse than he was before,” whispered Sam to Dick.  “They must have been tuning him up at home.”

“Tubbs is going to try for a captaincy this term,” said Powell, who had not minded Tom’s interruption of his versification in the least.

“Hurrah for Captain Tubbs!” cried Tom.  “Captain, allow me to salute you,” and he made a sweeping bow to the deck.  Tom spoke so earnestly that Tubbs was pleased, and instantly forgot their little differences.

“I shall be pleased to become a captain,” said the young gentleman.  “I feel I can fill the position with credit to myself and dignity to the academy.  There is military blood in my veins, for a second cousin on my mother’s side was a lieutenant in the Civil War.  Besides that, I have studied military movements at West Point, where I went to see the cadets drill.”

“Do you know how to swab out a cannon?” asked Sam, with a wink at the others.

“I shouldn’t—­ah—­care for such dirty work,” replied William Philander Tubbs with dignity.

“Or police a camp?”

“Surely you don’t think I was ever a policeman?”

“Don’t you remember what policing a camp is?” asked George Granbury.

“Upon my honor, I do not.”

“It means to clean up the streets, burn up the rubbish, and all that.”

“Thank you, but I do not—­ah—­care to become a street cleaner,” returned Tubbs, with great dignity.