Dave choked a strong impulse to laugh.

“Danny boy,” he remarked, “girls, very often, are mighty fond, also, of the fellow to whom they’re engaged.”

“Why did she let me call?” demanded Dan gloomily.

“How often have you called?” inquired Midshipman Darrin.

“Once, before to-night.”

“Only once?  Then, see here, Danny!  Don’t be a chump.  When you call on a girl once, and ask if you may call some other time, how on earth is she to guess that you’re an intended rival of the man she has promised to marry?”

“But-----” That was as far as Midshipman Dalzell got.   He halted,
wondering what he really could say next.

“Dan, I’m afraid you’ve got an awful lot to learn about girls, and also about the social proprieties to be observed in calling on them.  As to Miss Preston receiving a call from you, and permitting you to call again, that was something that any engaged girl might do properly enough.  Miss Preston came to Annapolis, possibly to learn something about midshipman life.  She met you and allowed you to call.  Very likely she permitted others to call.  From what you’ve told me I can’t see that she treated you unfairly in any way; I don’t believe Miss Preston ever guessed that you had any other than the merest social reasons for calling.”

“And I’m not sure that I did have,” grunted Dalzell.

Dave shot another swift look into his chum’s face before he said: 

“Danny boy, your case is a light one.  You’ll recover speedily.  Your vanity has been somewhat stung, but your heart won’t have a scar in three days from now.”

“What makes you think you know so much about that?” insisted Dan, drawing himself up with a dignified air.

“It isn’t hard to judge, when it’s another fellow’s case,” smiled Darrin.  “I believe that, at this minute, I understand your feelings better than you do yourself.”

“I don’t know about my feelings,” proclaimed Dan gloomily still, “but I do know something about my experience and conclusions.  No more girls for me!”

“Good idea, Danny boy,” cried Darrin, slapping his friend on the back.  “That’s the best plan for you, too.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t head enough to understand girls and their ways.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Good!  I hope you will keep in that frame of mind.  And now, let’s talk of something serious.”

“Of what, then?” inquired Dalzell, as the two started to walk along together.

“Football.”

“Is that more serious than girls?” demanded Dan Dalzell, suspicious that his friend was making fun of him.

“It’s safer, at any rate, for you.  Why, if a girl happens to say, ‘Delighted to meet you, Mr. Dalzell,’ you expect her to give up all other thoughts but you, and to be at home every Saturday evening.  No, no, Danny.  The company of the fair is not for you.  Keep to things you understand better—–­such as football.”