"Mother mine," cried Dorothy West, as she withdrew the pins from her hat, "John Dene's a dear, and I think his passion for me is developing." "Dorothy!" cried Mrs. West, a tiny white-haired lady whose face still retained traces of youthful beauty. "You needn't be shocked, lovie; John Dene is as worthy as his namesake in _Evangeline_." She laughed lightly. "Now I must eat. John Dene's like sea air, he's so stimulating;" and she began to eat the dinner that Mrs. West always prepared with such care. For some minutes she watched with a smile of approval her daughter's healthy appetite. "I think I should like Mr. Dene, Dorothy," she said at length. "I have always heard that Canadians are very nice to women. You must ask him to call." "Oh, you funny little mother!" she laughed. "You forget that we have come down in the world, and that I'm a typist." "A secretary, dear," corrected Mrs. West gently. "Well, secretary, then; but even a secretary doesn't invite her employer to tea, even when the tea is as mother makes it. It's not done, so the less that's said of John, I think, the better," she quoted gaily. "Oh! by the way," she added, "you might get his goat; Sir Lyster does." "His goat, dear!" Mrs. West looked up with a puzzled expression. Dorothy explained the allusion. She went on to tell of some of the doings of John Dene, his impatience, his indifference to and contempt for constituted authority. In short she added a few vivid side-lights to the picture she had already given her mother of how John Dene had come and carried all before him. "I think," she said in conclusion, screwing up her pretty features, "that John Dene is rather a dear." Then after a pause she added, "You see, he is also a man." "A man, my dear," questioned Mrs. West, looking at her daughter with a smile. "Yes, mother, he's so intensely masculine. I get so fed up with----" "Dorothy!" expostulated Mrs. West. "Yes, I know it's trying, mother, but I get so weary of the subaltern and junior naval officer. Of course they're splendid and brave; but they don't seem men." "But think of how they have given their lives," began Mrs. West. "Yes; but we see those who haven't, mother, and very few of them have chevrons on their sleeves. Now John Dene is quite different. He always seems to be a man; yet he never forgets that you are a woman, although he never appears to be conscious of your being a woman." Dorothy caught her mother's eye, and laughed. "Of course it sounds utterly ridiculous I know; but there it is, and then think of what----" She suddenly broke off. "Yes, dear," said Mrs. West gently. "I was nearly letting out official secrets, mother. Of course I mustn't do that, must I?" "Of course not, dear," said Mrs. West. "Yes," continued Dorothy, her head on one side, "I like John Dene. It must be ripping to be able to bully a First Lord of the Admiralty," she added irrelevantly.