“What part did you play in that crazy scheme?” asked Ralph of Himski, when the latter returned to his room after supper.

“I didn’t suppose you’d approve, Os,” replied Himski. “I was against it at first but Bollup was wild; he was bound to do something. And, Os, he has given you, however little you value it, what he prized most on earth, his stripes.”

“I know that and the thought of it is everything to me. But how in the world did he get the commandant and superintendent to do it?”

“That was really simple; these men did it more to ease down their own consciences than for any other reason; they knew they had treated you badly. Bollup clinched the matter by reporting himself for Frenching this year and last also, and told how you prevented him from Frenching the other night; and he told why you Frenched last year. No official notice will be taken of the reports he made against himself, but after all he said no superintendent could have allowed him to hold on to his stripes. So to give them to you was an easy slide. Now take the thing quietly and don’t let Bollup know how little you think of getting his job.”

“All right. I’ll think of what he gave, not what I received. But, Himski, I can’t express how happy I feel at having such friends; when the thing happened I couldn’t speak. Well, I’ll not let old Bollup know the stripes aren’t as precious to me as they were to him—good old Bol! I tell you, Himski, I have had some hard times here but I don’t regret one of them. Creelton has gone and there’s nothing that can touch me now; and we’re going to graduate in less than two weeks; won’t it be glorious for us to march to the tune of ‘Ain’t I glad to get out of the Wilderness,’ in our own right?”

As a matter of fact, before the two weeks had finished Ralph did enjoy his four stripes. Although it was practically an honorary position for Ralph yet he knew the four stripes signalized his importance to the officers and the hundreds of visitors now present at formations. Contented as he had been as a clean sleever he enjoyed giving the few orders he was called upon to give, and he felt natural and easy in giving them. And he had the feeling he was in his right place at last; thus he finally appreciated the four stripes Bollup had given him far more than he had expected to at first.

Graduation day drew near, and before it came Bollup’s mother and two sisters had come to Annapolis; Dorothy, though only thirteen years old, had made such a fuss at being left at home that finally she was allowed to come.

It was an enthusiastic greeting that met Mrs. Bollup and her two daughters. “And this is Mr. Himski, of course,” said the warm-hearted woman, after she had expressed her delight at seeing her “two boys” again; and Himski was immediately adopted into the family.

“Why, Tom,” exclaimed the observant Dorothy, “I thought you had four stripes and Ralph had a clean sleeve; how is this? Ralph seems to have the four stripes and you haven’t anything.”

Bollup colored and looked uneasy but was saved by Ralph.

“Why, Dorothy,” he quickly said, “you know what great friends Tom and I are; well, he’s generous, and one time, much to my surprise, he handed them over to me. I guess he got tired of them and thought I might like to have them for a while.”

“Well, I should have thought you wouldn’t have taken more than two of them,” pouted Dorothy; “I think you were greedy.”

Mrs. Bollup was delighted with this additional evidence of her son’s generosity. “It’s just like Tom,” she said.

Graduation week was and probably always will be, the most glorious period of Ralph Osborn’s life. It takes vicissitudes to enable one to appreciate triumphs, and of both of these Ralph had had full measure. From the depths of anxiety and misfortune he had viewed what he had believed to be unattainable heights of happiness. And now, on the eve of his graduation, he had attained to the pinnacle of all that was possible to a midshipman.

Every day the midshipmen were drilled in one way or another for the Board of Visitors, and every afternoon the battalion was drilled at dress parade. In all of these the cadet lieutenant-commander was a very important figure and Ralph enjoyed this importance.

He acted as the escort of Gladys, both to his class german and to his graduation ball. They were full of excited happiness and I judge had a never ending lot of things to tell one another, though what it was all about I never knew.

Gladys, dressed in white, was to Ralph the most beautiful vision he had ever seen.

On graduation day when the class was finally aligned to receive their graduating diplomas, and the first name called to step forward was Osborn, cheer after cheer rent the air both from the battalion and from the assembled spectators.

The President of the United States with one hand tended Ralph his diploma, giving him a warm clasp with the other. “I know all about you, Mr. Osborn,” the President said, “and I heartily congratulate you on this well-deserved graduation. You had the stuff in you to stick it out, the stuff that wins fights. You’ve started right; keep it up.”

After graduation as Ralph was hurrying to shift into his new officer’s uniform, he met Captain Waddell. “Well, Mr. Osborn,” said the old sea dog, “you’re a friend worth helping. I’ve helped many young men in one way or another but none have reflected such signal honor on my help as you have. I count the interest I’ve taken in you as one of the best things I’ve done in my forty years of naval service.”

“Just think what I owe you, captain,” cried Ralph, joyfully; “you’ve done everything; I would never have graduated but for you, and now I’m the happiest person in the world.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” replied the captain; “I know of one who is at least as happy as you are and because of you.”

“Why, who can it be, captain?” asked Ralph in great surprise.

“One of the best of men; one I’m proud to call friend, your Uncle George.”

“My Uncle George!” exclaimed Ralph. “Oh, where can I see this dear uncle? Is he here?”

“Yes, he has been here for several days, has seen you handle the battalion and saw you graduate at the head of your class this morning. I believe he’s the proudest, happiest man alive.”

“But why haven’t I seen him? Where is he?”

“Oh, he’s so confoundedly proud he’s going to take the afternoon train without seeing you. You see he couldn’t mix in the same social set you would and he’s afraid you’ll be ashamed of his position in life.”

“Ashamed!” exclaimed Ralph indignantly, and then asked determinedly, “Where can I find him, captain?”

“Room 141 Maryland Hotel,” replied the captain.

Murmuring a hasty good-bye Ralph was off like a shot. He was so eager that he broke into a run and in a few minutes he had reached the hotel. Without stopping he ran up-stairs and was soon at a door marked 141. He knocked firmly, and in reply to a voice within saying, “Come in,” he threw open the door. Inside the door stood a tall, vigorous looking man, perhaps about forty-three years old, dressed in blue jacket uniform. As Ralph entered, he instantly recognized the man before him. “Hester!” he cried, “my Uncle George! Oh, I’m so glad. Why didn’t you let me know you were my uncle? I never dreamed it!”

“It isn’t right, Mr. Osborn, that an officer should be related to an enlisted man.”

“Never call me Mr. Osborn, Uncle George,” cried Ralph, “unless I displease you. I’m so happy to have found you. And I’m proud of you; never believe I can have any other sentiment than that of affection and gratitude for you. Your money helped me to get in the Academy and when I was dismissed your money sustained me till I was reinstated.”

Uncle and nephew had a long talk. Ralph found his Uncle George a kindly, high-principled man, his father’s own brother, the nearest person in all the world to him. Hester was indeed proud of his nephew and happy in his final triumph and high standing.

The sun was low in the sky when Hester left his nephew, the two bidding each other most affectionate good-byes.

That night was the great ball, given to the graduating class, the last act of the midshipman’s career at Annapolis. And who are these tall, dignified young officers, in new long-tailed coats, with golden shoulder knots and with golden striped trousers coming toward us? Is it possible they are the short jacketed midshipmen of this morning?

From their erect carriage and brilliant new uniforms the stranger might imagine they were battle-ship captains. But indeed they were only Ralph and Bollup and Himski, and despite their gorgeous uniforms we know them, and we believe we will always find their hearts the same.

We will take our last glimpse at Ralph on his homeward walk with Gladys. He was to leave in the early morning for San Francisco, there to take ship for the Philippine Islands where the natives were in insurrection.

“Gladys,” said Ralph, “Tom gave me voluntarily what he loved most, his stripes; had I known of it I would have prevented him. Here they are; they were sewed on Tom’s and my coat sleeves; first, for most of the year, on his coat and for the last two weeks on mine. I’m going to give you one set as a keepsake and I’ll keep the other myself.”

“Thank you, Ralph,” returned Gladys, gently; “I will be so glad to have it and I will treasure it always. It will remind me of Tom and of you.”

[1] An actual occurrence on a midshipman’s practice cruise witnessed by the author.