"Is he going to call this evening?" she asked eagerly.

"Don't be inquisitive," cried Dorothy, conscious that she was blushing.

"You're in love with him, Dorothy, aren't you?" persisted Marjorie.

"Oh, mother, please tread on this horrid little creature," cried Dorothy; but Mrs. West merely smiled.

"You know," continued Marjorie candidly, "he's not much to look at; but he beats all those boys at the Admiralty." She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "It's nothing but chocolates, lunches and dinners, and take it out in kisses."

"My dear," said Mrs. West with quiet dignity, "you mustn't talk like that."

"I'm so sorry," cried Marjorie contritely; "but you know I get so fed up, Mrs. West. John Dene's so different. If it hadn't have been for Dorothy, I should have tried to get him for myself. I could," she added, looking from one to the other.

"You could probably get anything in the world except what you most wanted, Rojjie," said Dorothy sweetly.

"What I most wanted," repeated the girl.

"Yes, dear, a good spanking."

Marjorie made a face at her. Suddenly she jumped up from the table, and throwing her arms round Dorothy, kissed her impulsively, then a moment later she returned to her seat, a little shamefacedly as Dorothy and Mrs. West smiled across at her.

"I know you think I'm a feather-headed little cat, Mrs. West," said Marjorie wisely. "No, don't deny it," she persisted, as Mrs. West made a movement as if to speak. "But I'm not worldly all through, really, and I do like John Dene, and of course I just love Dollikins," she said with a quaint little smile in Dorothy's direction. "Would you sooner I went?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

"Sooner you went?"

"Yes, after dinner, I know that John Dene's coming to-night, although Dorothy won't own up."

"We shouldn't let you go, should we, mother?"

Mrs. West smiled and shook her head.

"Oh, won't it be lovely," cried Marjorie ecstatically, "when I refer to my friend, Lady Dene. And you will ask me down, Wessie darling, won't you, and get a lot of nice boys."

Dorothy lowered her eyes to her plate and blushed.

Later in the evening when they were all sitting in the drawing-room and a ring at the bell was heard, Marjorie danced about the room with excitement.

"Oh, please let me open the door," she cried. "I promise I won't kiss him."

"No, dear," said Mrs. West. "Dorothy."

With flaming cheeks and reluctant steps Dorothy left the room. It seemed to Marjorie a long time before she returned, followed by John Dene, who, when he had greeted Mrs. West, turned to Marjorie and shook hands.

"His boots, Dorothy," whispered Marjorie a minute later.

Dorothy looked down at John Dene's feet. The ugly American "footwear"

had been replaced by a pair of well-fitting brown boots.

"Please, Mr. Dene, may I be a bridesmaid?"

"Marjorie!" cried Dorothy.

"I may, mayn't I?" persisted Marjorie. "I'm sure Dorothy won't ask me unless you insist."

"Sure," replied John Dene genially. He was always a different man when with Mrs. West and Dorothy.

"You hear, Dorothy. If you don't make me chief bridesmaid I shall--I shall create a disturbance and say it's bigamy or something, and that Mr. Dene has already got two wives in Toronto, not to speak of Salt Lake City. And now I must be running away. Oh! Mrs. West, you said you would give me that pattern," she said suddenly.

"That pattern, dear," began Mrs. West, whilst Dorothy felt her cheeks burn.

"Yes, don't you remember?"

"What pattern?" began Mrs. West, then conscious that Marjorie was making hideous grimaces at her, she rose and walked towards the door, leaving John Dene and Dorothy alone.

"No one would ever think you were married, Mrs. West," said Marjorie severely, as they walked into the dining-room. "Don't you know that young people want to be alone when they're only just engaged."

This with such a serious little air of womanly worldliness that Mrs.

West's smile almost developed into a laugh.

"Don't you think, Mrs. West, that G.o.d must be pleased when two nice people come together?" said Marjorie gravely.

Mrs. West looked at her with slightly widening eyes, then recovering herself, said, "G.o.d is always glad because of happiness, dear."

And Marjorie nodded her head as if in entire agreement with the sentiment.

An hour later, when Marjorie had gone, Mrs. West entered the drawing-room, having been sent in by Dorothy to entertain John Dene whilst she wrote a letter.

After a few commonplaces they sat in silence, John Dene smoking l.u.s.tily, Mrs. West happy in her thoughts. It was the Good Lord, she decided, who had ordained that Dorothy and John Dene should fall in love with each other, and thus crown with happiness the autumn of her days.

"I've been trying to figure out all the afternoon why she said 'shucks,'" John Dene suddenly burst in upon her thoughts in a way that startled her.

"Said 'shucks!'" she repeated. Mrs. West had a habit of repeating a phrase when not quite understanding it, or desirous of gaining time before framing her reply.

"Sure."

"But who said 'shucks'?" she asked, lifting her brows in an endeavour to comprehend, "and--what are 'shucks,' Mr. Dene?"

"Shucks," repeated John Dene in his turn, "shucks are--are----" He paused, then as if determining that this was a side issue he added: "When I told her to-day that I'd never had any use for girls, and--and----" He looked at Mrs. West helplessly.

She smiled.

"She just said 'shucks.'"

"I think she must have meant that you were too modest," said Mrs. West softly.

"Me modest!" John Dene sat up straight in his surprise.

"I think that is what she must have meant."