Now Peggy had, as chatelaine of Severndale, been more than once obliged to order the dismissal of some of the temporary hands employed about the paddock, for Shelby was rigid upon the rule of temperance.  He would have no bibblers near the animals under his charge.  He had seen too much trouble caused by such worthless employees.  Consequently, Peggy was wise beyond her years to the gravity of intemperance and had expressed herself pretty emphatically when Blue was discussed within the privacy of Middies’ Haven, for what was told there was sacred.  That was an unwritten law.  And all this led to a ridiculous situation one day in the middle of November, for comedy and tragedy usually travel side by side in this world.

It fell upon an ideal Saturday afternoon, a half-holiday at the Academy.  It also happened to be Wheedles’ birthday, and Mrs. Harold never let a birthday pass without some sort of a celebration if it were possible to have one.  She had told Peggy about it, and Peggy had promptly invited a little party up to Round Bay.

Now visiting for the midshipmen beyond the confines of the town of Annapolis is forbidden, but Mrs. Harold, as the wife of an officer, was at liberty to take out a party of friends in one of the Academy launches, so she promptly got together a congenial dozen, Ralph, Happy, Shortie, Wheedles and Durand, Captain Pennell and four others besides Polly and herself, and in the crispness of the Indian Summer afternoon, steamed away up the Severn to Round Bay.

Peggy had asked the privilege of providing the birthday feast and understanding the pleasure it would give her to do so, Mrs. Harold had agreed most readily.  So immediately after luncheon formation the party embarked at the foot of Maryland Avenue and a gayer one it would have been hard to find.

Knowing the average boy’s appetite and the midshipman’s in particular, Mrs. Harold had, with commendable forethought, brought with her a big box of crullers, in nowise disturbed by the thought that it might spoil their appetites for the delayed luncheon.  Breakfast is served at seven A.M. in Bancroft Hall, and the interval between that and twelve-thirty luncheon is long enough at best.  If you add to that another hour and a half it is safe to conclude that starvation will be imminent.  Hence her box of crullers to avoid such a calamity.

The launch puffed and chugged its way up the river, running alongside the pretty Severndale dock sharp to the minute of four bells.  Peggy stood ready to welcome them.

“Oh, isn’t this lovely.  Scramble ashore as fast as you can, for Aunt Cynthia is crazy lest her fried chicken ‘frazzle ter a cinder,’” she cried as she greeted her guests.

“Who said fried chicken?” cried Happy.

“That last cruller you warned me against eating never fazed me a bit, Little Mother,” asserted Wheedles, as he assisted Mrs. Harold up the stone steps leading from the dock.