ted) awful review! (pause)
Terrible!"

We steadied in the ranks and waited for our doom.

"It will never be so again," he continued, "I'll see to that. I'll
drill ye myself. If you have to get up at four o'clock in the morning
to drill in order to meet your classes, I'll see that ye do it.
Dropping guns! (pause). Talking in ranks! (pause). Out-o-step
(terrible pause). Marking time wrong. Everything wrong! Company
commanders, take 'em away."

We were took.

"All of those things," said my P.O. in a trembling voice, "you did.
All of 'em. Now the old man's sore on us and he's going to give us
hell, and I'm going to do the same by you."

"Shoot, dearie," says I, with the desperate indifference of a man who
has nothing left to lose, "I wouldn't feel natural if you didn't."

And in my hammock that night I thought of another thing I might have
said if it had occurred to me in time. I might have said, "Hell is the
only thing you know how to give and you're generous with that because
it's free."

But I guess after all it's just as well I didn't.

_August 1st._ Mr. Fogerty has returned aboard. My worst fears are
realized. For a long time he has been irritable and uncommunicative
with me and has indulged in sly, furtive little tricks unbecoming to a
dog of the service. I have suspected that he was concealing a love
affair from me. This it appears he has been doing and his guilt is
heavy upon him. I realize now for the first time and not without a
sharp maternal pang that he has reached an age at which he must make
decisions for himself. I can no longer follow him out into the world
upon his nocturnal exploits. His entire confidence is not mine. I must
be content to share a part of his heart instead of the whole of it.
Like father like son, I suppose. However, I see no reason for him to
put on such airs. On his return from City Island this time he had
somehow contrived to get himself completely shaved up to the
shoulders. The result is startling. Fogerty looks extremely
aristocratic but a trifle foppish. However, he seems to consider
himself the only real four-footed dog in camp. This is a trifle boring
from a dog who has never hesitated to steal from the galley anything
that wasn't a permanent fixture. I can't help but feel sorry for him
though when I see that far-away look in his eyes. Sad days I fear are
in store for him. Ah, well, we're only young once.

_August 3d._ "Well, now, son," he was saying, "mind me when