Gladys Norman jumped to her feet, knocking over the benzine bottle
and dropping her brush into the vitals of the machine.

Before her stood a fair-haired girl, her violet eyes brimming with
mischievous laughter, whilst in her arms she carried a mass of red
roses.

"I'm so sorry," faltered Gladys Norman, biting her lower lip, and
conscious of her heightened colour and the violet-stained gloves
that had once been white. "I thought Johnnie was playing a joke."

Lady Dene nodded brightly, whilst Gladys Norman stooped to pick up
the benzine bottle, then with a motion of her head indicated to
William Johnson that his presence was no longer required.
Reluctantly the lad turned, and a moment later the door closed
slowly behind him.

"I want you to help me," said Lady Dene, dropping the roses on to
the leaf of Gladys Norman's typing-table. "These are for Mr. Sage."

"For the Chief?" cried Gladys Norman in astonishment. Then she
laughed. The idea of a riot of red roses in Malcolm Sage's room
struck her as funny.

"You see," said Lady Dene, "this is the birthday of the Malcolm Sage
Bureau, and I'm going to decorate his room."

"I don't----" began Gladys Norman hesitatingly, when Lady Dene
interrupted her.

"It's all right," she cried, "I'll take all the responsibility."

"But we've got no vases," objected Gladys Norman.

"My chauffeur has some in the car, and there are heaps more roses,"
she added.

"More?" cried Gladys Norman aghast.

"Heaps," repeated Lady Dene, dimpling with laughter at the
consternation on Gladys Norman's face. "Ah! here they are," as the
door opened and a mass of white roses appeared, with a florid face
peering over the top.

"Put them down there, Smithson," said Lady Dene, indicating a spot
in front of Gladys Norman's table. "Now fetch the vases and the rest
of the roses."

"The rest!" exclaimed Gladys Norman.

Lady Dene laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying the girl's
bewilderment.

"He's not come yet?" she interrogated.

The girl shook her head.

"He won't be here for half-an-hour yet," she said. "He had to go
down into the city."

"That will just give us time," cried Lady Dene, stooping and picking
up an armful of the white roses. "You bring the red ones," she cried
over her shoulder, as she passed through Malcolm Sage's door, just
as Smithson entered with several purple vases.

Picking up the red roses, Gladys Norman followed the others into
Malcolm Sage's room. Her feeling