"No. The truth is, I've had a milk leg. Fact. I know it is—er—generally limited to the other sex at—er—certain periods. But I've had it. Can't hike any distance. Can't run. Couldn't even kick a Hun," he added bitterly. "And what's more, there's a girl on this ship who thinks I'm a slacker, and I can't tell her about it. She wouldn't believe me if I did—though why a fellow would make up a milk leg I don't know. And she'd laugh. Everybody laughs. I've made a lot of people happy."
"Why don't you tell her you have heart disease?" Tish inquired in a gentler tone. Though not young herself she has preserved a fine interest in the love affairs of youth.
"Oh, I've got that all right," he said gloomily. "But it's not the sort that keeps a fellow out of the Army. It's—well, that doesn't matter. But suppose I told her that? She wouldn't marry me with heart disease."
"Tish!" Aggie called faintly.
In the end we were obliged to cut the rubber suit off with the scissors, as she not only refused to get up but wanted to drown if we were torpedoed. We therefore did not see the young man again until evening, and then he was with a very pretty girl in a Y. M. C. A. uniform. We had gone up on deck for air, and Tish was looking
