“Bet your life,” was chorused as the three tousled heads vanished.

The average midshipman’s “shift” requires as a rule, about two minutes, and passed-middies are no exception.  Before it seemed possible three bath-robed figures joined the girls, who had put their raincoats over their bathing suits, and all slipped down to the little beach in front of the cottage and struck out for the float anchored about fifty feet off shore.

What a sight the bay and river presented that morning.  Hundreds of beautiful yachts, foregathered from every part of the world, for New London makes a wonderful showing Regatta week, and flying the flags of innumerable yacht clubs, were crowding the roadstead.  A more inspiring sight it would be difficult to imagine.  Just beyond the float, and lying between the Olympia and Navy Bungalow, the pretty little naptha launch on which Captain Stewart’s party were to be Captain Boynton’s guests, rode lightly at anchor, her bright work reflecting the sunlight, her awning a-flutter, her signal pennant waving bravely.

“I’ve got to play I’m a porpoise.  I’ve simply got to.  Come on, Wheedles, nothing else will work off my pent-up excitement,” cried Polly, diving off the float to tumble and turn over and over in the water very like the fish she named, for Polly’s training with Captain Pennell during the winter had made her almost as much at home in the water as on land and Peggy swam equally well.

While the young people were splashing about Mrs. Harold and Mrs. Howland came out on the piazza to enjoy the sight.

For half an hour the five splashed, dove, and gamboled as carefree as five young seals, and with as much freedom, then all hurried into the bathhouses where Mammy and Jerome had already anticipated their needs by hurrying down with a supply of necessary wearing apparel; a trifling matter quite overlooked by the bathers themselves.

A gayer, heartier, more glowing group of young people than those gathered at the breakfast table could not have been found in New London or anywhere else; certainly not at the Griswold where the majority of them were either satiated society girls whose winters had been spent in a mad social whirl, or the blase city youths who at nineteen had already found life “such a beastly bore.”

“Gad,” cried Neil Stewart, slapping Shortie’s broad shoulders, “but it’s refreshing to find fellows of your age who can still show up such a glow in their cheeks, and such a light in their eyes, and an enthusiasm so infectious that it sets a-tingle every drop of blood in an old kerfoozalem like me.  Hang fast to it like grim death, for you’ll never get it back if you once lose it.  That old school down there turns out chaps who can get more out of the simple life than any bunch I know of.  It may be the simple life in some respects, but it’s got a confounded lot of hard work in it all the same, and when you’ve finished that