soothingly. "I am going to see the Commander of the station myself. I am going this very instant."

"But, Mother," I cried in desperation, tossing all consequences to the wind, "the 'skipper' isn't on the station today. He got a 43-hour liberty. I saw him check out of the gate myself."

For a moment the Ensign's jaw dropped. I watched him anxiously. Then with perfect composure, he turned to Mother and came through like a little gentleman.

"Yes, madam," he stated, "your son is right. I heard his name read out with the liberty party only a moment ago. He has shoved off by now."

I could have kissed that Ensign.

"Well, I'm sure," said Mother, "it's very funny that I can never get to the Captain. I shall write him, however."

"He must have an interesting collection of your letters already," I suggested. "They would be interesting to publish in book form."

"Anyway," continued Mother, apparently not attending to my remark, "I think you would look just as well as this young man in one of those nice white suits."

"No doubt, madam," replied the Ensign propitiatingly, "no doubt."

"Come, Mother," said I, "let's go to the Y.M.C.A. I need something cool to steady my nerves."

"How about your underwear?" said Mother, coming back to her mania, in a voice that invited all within earshot who were interested in my underwear to draw nigh and attend.

"Here, eat this ice cream," I put in quickly, almost feeding her. "It's melting."

But Mother was not to be decoyed away from her favorite topic.

"I must look it over," she continued firmly.

It seemed to me that every eye in the room was calmly penetrating my whites and carefully looking over the underwear in which Mother took such an exaggerated interest. "Socks!" suddenly exploded Mother. "How are you off for socks?"

"Splendidly," I said in a hoarse voice. A girl behind me snickered.

"And have you that liniment to rub on your stomach when you have cramps?" she went on ruggedly.

"Enough to last through the Fall season," I replied in a moody 

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