Lonny threw himself into a chair and waited, wondering whether he or his friends were more eccentric than the rest of the world. His wonder was not lessened when Ronald reappeared, lugging in that life-sized portrait of Lonny that had been taken in his midshipman’s uniform, just before he went to sea. Ronald locked the door carefully and then stood the picture on the floor, leaning against it, and said: “Do you know that boy?” “I _used_ to know him some seventeen years ago, and a sad dog he was, to be sure! He came to no good, I dare say,” replied Lonny with a rueful smile. “Well, _that_,” said the lieutenant, rapping on the canvas, “was the last his friends saw of him, was it not?” “Yes.” “Well, _this_,” said Ronald, again rapping the canvas—“or something very _like_ this, must be the first his friends see of him again! In other words, Lonny Bruce, you must dress to match your portrait of seventeen years ago, so that your friends may know you at a glance. Do you understand?” “Yes, but it will be difficult.” “Not at all! Listen now. I have the recipe, the pattern, the programme, all cut, dried, and laid out! After you have had your bath and put on fresh underclothing, we must take the plantation barber so far into our confidence as to let him cut and shave that bandit-like black beard of yours, and trim those unkempt elf locks into civilized proportions. Then you must put on my last midshipman’s uniform, which is quite new and fresh, and which, having been discarded by me two years ago, when I was promoted, will probably fit you perfectly.” “And so, when that toilet is completed, I shall come forth a new, revised, and improved edition of the Midshipman Lonny Bruce of seventeen years ago?” “Exactly.” “An excellent idea! Thanks, Ronald! I am impatient to act upon it. My father will be sure to recognize me now,” said Lonny. “All right,” laughed Ronald. He then proceeded to open his wardrobe and bureau and to lay out from them all necessary articles of apparel required by the wanderer. Lastly, he unlocked a lumber closet and took from its peg the midshipman’s uniform. All these things he lifted in his arms and conveyed into the communicating bathroom, saying as he came out: “Now all is ready for you in there, Lonny. Go in and get ready. I will go down and send the barber up here to you, with directions to wait in this room until you want him. Then I will go and find your father and break the news of your return to him. But, for Heaven’s sake, Lonny, do not leave this apartment until I come back for you.” “Of course I will not,” replied the latter. Lieutenant Bruce then left the room and went slowly down the stairs, asking himself how on earth he should ever be able to tell the commodore without killing him. In the hall below he met his own servant, and to him he said: