"Going to the hop, Jet ?" "Will you do me a great favor ?" asked Midshipman Jetson.
"Certainly, if possible," agreed Dave cordially.
"Then mind your own business," snapped the other midshipman.
Darrin, who had made it a point to forget the brief unpleasantness of the football season, received this rebuke with about the same feelings that a slap in the face would have given him.
The sulky midshipman had stepped past the trio, but Dave, after swallowing hard, wheeled about and hailed: "Hold on, there, Mr.Jetson!" "Well ?" demanded Jetson, halting and looking back.
"I don't like your tone, sir." "And I don't like your face, sir," retorted Jetson.

"Nor your cheek, either, for that matter." "I tried to treat you pleasantly," Dave went on, hurt and offended.
"Oh! It required an effort, did it ?" sneered Jetson.
"Something may have happened that I don't know anything about," Darrin continued.

"It may be that you have some real reason for treating me as you have just done.

If you have any good reason I wish you'd tell me, for in that case I must have done something that put me in wrong.

If that's the case, I want to make amends." "Oh--bosh!" grumbled the other midshipman.
"Come on, now!" urged Dave.