“Oh, that would be too much!” Dave protested generously.  “Jetson has always been an honorable, square fellow in the past.”

“He has always been infernally sulky and high-handed,” growled Midshipman Hepson.

“A bad temper is not such an uncommon failing,” smiled Dave.

“No; but there are limits to the amount of temper that a gentleman may display and still be worthy to associate with gentlemen,” contended Hepson stubbornly.  “It’s the insult to the whole brigade that I’m thinking of.  Darry, I’ll wager that your class won’t and can’t do less than give Jetson a trip to Coventry.”

[Illustration:  “Take Off Your Overcoat, Mr. Darrin.”]

“Oh, that would be too much—­unjust!” protested Dave.

“The class will do it just the same.”

“If the class mixes up in my affair, and carries it so far as to send
Jetson to Coventry, I’ll be hanged if I don’t go there with him!” cried
Darrin impulsively.

The words were out.  A man of Darrin’s honest nature would feel bound to stand by even that heated utterance.

“Oh, come, now, Darry, don’t be so foolish over a fellow who has treated you in such fashion.”

“I’ve said it, haven’t I?” asked Dave grimly.  “It would be an utter injustice, and I’m not going to see something that is my own affair distorted into an injustice that would be altogether out of proportion to Jetson’s offense.”

By this time the strolling pair of midshipmen had reached the entrance to Bancroft Hall.

“What are you going to try to do about your dress coat, Darry?” asked Hepson in an undertone.  “Borrow one?”

“If I can find one that fits.”

“Take my advice, then.  Don’t just borrow, and thereby run a chance of getting both yourself and the lender in trouble.  For of course you know that one can never tell when an inspection may be made, and the man whose dress coat was gone would have to account for it.  So go to the O. C., state that your coat was accidentally torn, and ask permission to borrow one in order that you may return and escort your ladies back to the hotel.  Your O. C. won’t raise any objection to that.”

“But he might want to see the coat that I have on,” grimaced Dave.  “Then the O. C. would be sure to see the blood-drips on my shirt front, or the collar, at least.  Then talk of a mere accident might lead to questions as to the nature of the accident.”

“True,” nodded Hepson.  “Then get back to your room.  Get out clean linen and get into it.  While you’re doing that I’ll negotiate the loan of a dress coat that will fit.  Then you can go to the O. C., after you’ve changed the telltale linen.”

This course, accordingly, was followed.  Dave changed his linen as quickly as he could, while Hepson appeared with three borrowed dress coats for a try-on.  One was found to fill the bill.  Resting it over a chair, Darrin slipped on his service blouse and reported to the O.C.  Permission was granted to borrow a dress coat.  If the officer in charge felt any suspicion or curiosity as to the nature of the accident he cleverly concealed the fact.