“Poor boy!  He’ll have an awful fall!” muttered Belle.

“Why do you say that?  But, say!  You’re right, Belle.  Dan’s face has turned positively ghastly.  He looks worse than he could if he’d just failed to graduate.”

“Naturally,” murmured Belle.  “Poor boy, I’m sorry for him.”

“But what’s the matter?”

“Did you notice Miss Henshaw’s jewelry?”

“Not particularly.  I can see, from here, that she’s wearing a small diamond in each ear.”

“Dave, didn’t you see the flat gold band that she wears on the third finger of her left hand?” Belle demanded in a whisper.

“No,” confessed Midshipman Darrin innocently.  “But what has that to do with—–­”

“Her wedding ring,” Belle broke in.  “Dan has gotten her title twisted.  She’s Mrs. Henshaw.”

“Whew!  But what, in that case, is she doing strolling around with a midshipman?  That’s no proper business for a married woman,” protested Dave Darrin.

“Haven’t you called on or escorted any married women since you’ve been at Annapolis?” demanded Belle bluntly.

“Yes; certainly,” nodded Dave.  “But, in every instance they were wives of Naval officers, and such women looked upon midshipmen as mere little boys.”

“Isn’t there an Admiral Henshaw in the Navy?” inquired Belle.

“Certainly.”

“That’s Mrs. Henshaw,” Belle continued.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t, but I’m certain, just the same.  Now, Dan has met Mrs. Henshaw somewhere down at the Naval Academy.  He heard her name and got it twisted into Miss Henshaw.  It’s his own blundering fault, no doubt.  But Admiral Henshaw’s young and pretty wife is not to be blamed for allowing a boyish midshipman to stroll with her as her escort.”

“Whew!” whistled Dave Darrin under his breath.  “So Dan has been running it blind again?  Oh, Belle, it’s a shame!  I’m heartily sorry that we’ve been here to witness the poor old chap’s Waterloo.”

“So am I,” admitted Belle.  “But the harm that has been done is due to Dan’s own blindness.  He should learn to read ordinary signs as he runs.”

No wonder Dan Dalzell’s face had gone gray and ashy.  For the time being he was feeling keenly.  He had been so sure of “Miss” Henshaw’s being a splendid woman—–­as, indeed, she was—–­that he decided on this, their third meeting, to try his luck with a sailor’s impetuous wooing.  In other words, he had plumply asked the admiral’s wife to marry him;

“Why, you silly boy!” remonstrated Mrs. Henshaw, glancing up at him with a dismayed look.  “I don’t know your exact age, Mr. Dalzell, but I think it probable that I am at least ten years older than—–­”

“I don’t care,” Dan maintained bravely.

“Besides, what would the admiral say?”

“Is he your father or your brother?” Dan inquired.

“My husband!”

Then it was that Midshipman Dalzell’s face had gone so suddenly gray.  He fairly gasped and felt as though he were choking.