seen Herbert Wallace--another
and very unpopular student at Brighton--pass by the office window, stop
for a moment to stare at them, and then step away quickly in the
direction of the door, near which they were standing.

"Well, what's the verdict?" asked Mr. Burton, having finished his
duties.

"The Signal Corps is our choice," said Joe, speaking for all, "but how
do we go about getting into it?"

"I think I can arrange that," Mr. Burton informed them. "You boys have
been studying telegraphy under me for more than six months, and I'm
willing to certify that each of you can now handle an instrument. In
addition to that, you are able to take down messages on the typewriter
as they come over the wire. Yes, sir," Mr. Burton finished, "I think
your Uncle Sam will be mighty glad to get three such lads as you, and I
know the recruiting agent to put the thing through."

So it was arranged that the three lads should return to the dormitory,
write the letters which were to procure them the desired permission to
enlist, and then inform the headmaster of their intentions.

Joe and Jerry, who had roomed together throughout their entire three
years at Brighton, already were well on with their epistles of
explanation when Slim, whose room was seven doors down the corridor,
dragged himself in, looking more downcast than any boy in Brighton ever
had seen him look before.

"No use," he informed his two friends, a choke in his voice. "They won't
have me. I'm overweight."

"Oh, now, Slim, what are you worrying about that for? I don't believe
any such thing," counseled Joe.

"It's true, though," affirmed Slim. "That's the worst part of it; I saw
it in the book. I'm toting around about twenty pounds more than the
government wants, and I'd have to stand on tiptoe in high-heel shoes to
meet the requirement in height."

Poor Slim! He showed his disappointment in every look and every action.

"What kind of a book did you see it in?" asked Jerry, in a tone almost
as sad as Slim's.

"In the manual," Slim groaned. "Herb Wallace showed it to me."

"That settles it," exclaimed Joe. "If Herb Wallace had a hand in it
anywhere there's something wrong. I'll tell you what we'll do, fellows.
We'll go and ask the headmaster."

Now the headmaster of Brighton had once been a boy himself. He could be
stern, even cruelly severe, when occasion demanded, but he was kind of
heart and broad of understanding.

Before him the three lads laid their