Mr. Blair sank back in his chair. He was a man who assimilated innovation with difficulty. All his life he had been cradled in the lap of "as it was in the beginning." He was a vade-mecum on procedure and the courtesies of life, which made him extremely valuable to Sir Lyster. He was a gentle zephyr, whereas John Dene was something between a sudden draught and a cyclone. Mr. Blair fixed his rather prominent blue eyes on the door that had closed behind John Dene. He disliked colonials. They always said what they meant, and went directly for what they wanted, all of which was in opposition to his standard of good-breeding. As he continued to gaze at the door, it suddenly opened and John Dene's head appeared. "Say," he cried, "if that yellow-headed girl comes, send her right in," and the door closed with a bang. Inwardly Mr. Blair gasped; it was not customary for yellow-haired girls to be sent in to see the First Lord. "The difference between this country and Can'da," remarked John Dene, as he planted upon Sir Lyster's table a large, shapeless-looking parcel, from which he proceeded to remove the wrapping, "is that here every one wants to know who your father was; but in Can'da they ask what can you do. I got that pound of tea," he added inconsequently. "The pound of tea!" repeated Sir Lyster uncomprehendingly, as he watched John Dene endeavouring to extract a packet from his pocket with one hand, and undo the string of the parcel with the other. "Yes, for that yellow-headed girl. I ran into her in the corridor and smashed her teapot yesterday. I promised I'd get her some more tea. Here it is;" and John Dene laid the package on the First Lord's table. "If she comes after I'm gone, you might give it to her. I told her to run in here and fetch it. This is the pot," he added, still struggling with the wrappings. Presently he disinterred from a mass of paper wound round it in every conceivable way, a large white, pink and gold teapot. Sir Lyster gazed from the teapot, terrifying in the crudeness of its shape and design, to John Dene and back again to the teapot. "Like it?" asked John Dene, as he looked admiringly at his purchase. "Ought to cheer those girls up some." Sir Lyster continued to gaze at the teapot as if fascinated. "I told her to run in here and fetch it," continued John Dene, indicating the packet of tea. "She doesn't know about the pot," he added with self-satisfaction. "In here," repeated Sir Lyster, unwilling to believe his ears. "Sure," replied John Dene, his eyes still fixed admiringly upon the teapot, "at eleven o'clock. It's that now," he added, looking at his watch. As he did so Mr. Blair entered and closed the door behind him. He was obviously embarrassed. "A young person----" he began. "Send her right in," cried John Dene.