That was one of the happiest afternoons and evenings Peggy and Polly had ever known, and so passed many another, for Neil Stewart meant that month to be a memorable one for Peggy, little guessing how soon a less happy one would dawn for her, or how unwittingly he had laid the train for it.

For two weeks there were lawn fetes at Navy Bungalow, long auto trips through the beautiful surrounding country and the delightfully cosy family gatherings which all so loved.

After Gail’s graduation Mrs. Howland returned bringing that golden-haired lassie with her, Snap and Constance coming too.

Gail’s introduction to the circle was a funny one: 

Captain Stewart had been curious to see whether “Howland number four would uphold the showing of the family,” as he teasingly told Polly, and Polly who was immensely proud of her pretty sister had brindled and protested that:  “Gail was the very best looking one of the family.”

“Then she must be going some,” he insisted.

She was a sunny, bonny sight in spite of a dusty ride down from Northampton, and Captain Stewart was at the steps to help her from the auto which had been sent up to the New London station to meet her.  She stepped out after her mother and Constance, but before Mrs. Howland had a chance to present her Captain Stewart laid a pair of kindly hands upon her shoulders, held her from him a moment, peering at her from under his thick eyebrows in a manner which made a pretty color mantle her cheeks, then said with seeming irrelevance: 

“No, the Howland family doesn’t lie, but on the other hand they don’t invariably convey the whole truth.  You’ll pass, little girl.  Yes, you’ll pass, and you don’t look a day older than Polly and Peggy even if you are hiding away a sheepskin somewhere in that suitcase yonder.  Yes, I’ll adopt you as my girl, and by crackey I’m going to seal it,” and with that he took the bonny face in both hands and kissed each rosy cheek.

Poor Gail, if the skies had dropped she couldn’t have been more nonplussed.  She had heard a good deal of the people she was to visit but had never pictured this reception, and for once the girl who had been president of her class and carried off a dozen other honors, was as fussed as a schoolgirl.

Peggy came to her rescue.

Running up to her she slipped her arms about her and cried: 

“Don’t mind Daddy Neil.  We are all wild to know you and we’re just bound to love you.  How could we help it?  You belong to us now, you know.  Come with me.  You are to have the room right next ours—­Polly’s and mine, I mean—­and everything will be perfectly lovely.”

Within three days after Gail’s arrival Happy, Wheedles and Shortie had to leave for their own homes, as their families were clamoring for some of their society during that brief month’s leave before they joined their ships.  But fortune favored them in one respect, for Happy and Wheedles were ordered to the Connecticut, the flag-ship of the Atlantic fleet, and Shortie to Snap’s ship, the Rhode Island in the same fleet.  So, contrary to the usual order of things where men in the Academy have been such chums, their ways would not wholly divide.