Robert looked at his roommate in sheer astonishment. "Well, of all things!" he said. "To think of your knowing that for hours and never mentioning it. Why, I was talking with Mrs. Blunt and Helen about the play and wishing I could go. I'm immensely pleased. But why didn't you speak of it before, Stone?" "Oh, I just didn't. In fact I haven't told anybody. The news will be announced at supper formation, so you know it sooner than anybody else does. And we'll have a glorious time." "I'm delighted," cried Robert. "Stone, this is just fine. Bully for old Dalton. He's a daisy commandant." CHAPTER XI "THREE GROANS FOR THE SUPERINTENDENT" Great was the delight of first classmen at the privilege of theatre liberty, a rare privilege for midshipmen; and loud and deep were the indignant murmurs of midshipmen other than first classmen to whom this privilege was not accorded. "There's no reason, no reasonable reason why the second and third classmen should not go," protested Third Classman Blunt at supper. "I'm in favor of the whole third class going in a body; we'll show the authorities what we think of the commandant's ridiculous treatment----" "Mr. Blunt, you are called to order," rang out the sharp, dictatorial voice of Cadet Lieutenant Drake, sitting at the head of the table. "You are inciting mutiny and speaking disrespectfully of your superior officers." Harry Blunt was plainly cowed and subsided for a time; but later said in a low tone to a classmate sitting on his right: "I'm going out anyway; it won't be the first time I have gone over the wall." "You'd be recognized at the theatre and spotted, and you'd be missed at taps inspection; you had better not try it," was the reply. "I guess you're right," grumbled Harry, "but I've a pretty good trick up my sleeve, and I may work it." Later, when the first classmen were all gone and the corridors were deserted, Third Classman Blunt might have been seen to slip into room number 23, the divisional officers' room. And in a few minutes he came out looking perplexed and worried. The Colonial Theatre was a gay sight that Saturday night. All of society Annapolis was present, the ladies beautifully gowned, and the men in correct evening dress. Annapolis prides itself on being as strict in such matters as Newport. Interspersed throughout the audience were to be seen many navy uniforms; and well toward the front and centre, in seats reserved for them, were seated as fine a body of young men as had ever been brought together, the senior class of midshipmen. It seemed more like a friendly party than an ordinary audience, for everybody knew everybody else, and before the curtain rose there were innumerable greetings and much pleasant talk.