"Mistake?" echoed Dan. "With that anchor on his collar?"
Hastily Dan Dalzell slipped back into the office, going up to the young man in uniform, who had stopped before the desk.
"Good evening," began Dan politely. "I'd like to introduce myself. 'Tomorrow I expect to be one of the crowd. You're a midshipman, aren't you?"
"I'm an officer of the Navy," replied the uniformed stranger coldly, as he half turned to glance briefly at Dalzell. "You are a candidate, I suppose? Then I fancy you will report at the superintendent's office in the morning."
With that the Naval officer turned away, leaving poor Dalzell feeling decidedly dumfounded.
"Wasn't that a midshipman?" gasped Dan, in a whisper.
"That gentleman is a lieutenant in the Navy," replied the clerk, with a slight smile.
Crestfallen Dan hurried back to Darrin, brushing off his sleeves with his hands as he walked.
"Served you right; you must get over being fresh," Dave Darrin rebuked his chum. "But what is the matter with your sleeves?"
"I'm brushing the frost off of them," murmured Dan dejectedly.
"Did you notice the ice-bath that fellow threw over me?"