"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 The ugly American "footwear" had been replaced by a pair of well-fitting brown boots.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?"