, smiling mischievously.

"And so you don't think I'm quite nice, Mrs. West?" She made an
elaborate curtsey. "Thank you very much indeed. At the Admiralty
there are quite a lot of young men, and some old ones, too, who don't
agree with you," she added, returning to her chair.

"But you mustn't say such--such things," protested Mrs. West weakly.

"But, mother, when you were a girl and knew a nice man, didn't you want
him to kiss you?"

"We never thought about such things. We----"

"Didn't you want father to kiss you?" persisted Dorothy.

"We were engaged, my dear, and your dear father was so----"

"But before you were engaged. Suppose father had tried to kiss you.
What would you have done?"

The girl's eyes were on her mother, mischievous and challenging. A
faint blush tinged Mrs. West's cheeks.

"I'll tell you what you'd have done, you dear, naughty little mother.
You'd have pretended to be shocked, but in your heart you would have
been glad, and you'd have lain awake all night thinking what an awful
rip you had been." She nodded her head wisely.

"Sometimes," said Mrs. West after a pause, "I wish it had not been
necessary for you to work. Girls seem so different nowadays from what
they were when I was young."

"We are, you dear little mouse," smiled Dorothy. "We know a lot more,
and to be forewarned is to be forearmed. I'm glad I didn't live when
you had to faint at the sight of a mouse, or swoon when you were
kissed. It would be such a waste," she added gaily.

Mrs. West sighed, conscious that a new age of womanhood had dawned with
which she was out of touch.

"Mother," said Dorothy presently, "what made you love father?"

Mrs. West looked up in surprise at her daughter, but continued to fold
her napkin and place it in her ring before replying.

"Because your father, Dorothy, was----" she hesitated.

"My father," suggested Dorothy.

Mrs. West smiled; but there was a far-away look in her eyes.
"Everybody loved your father," she went on a moment later.

"Yes, mother, but everybody didn't marry him," she said practically.

"Noooo----" hesitated Mrs. West.

"But you mean to say that everybody would have liked to marry him."

"He was very wonderful," said Mrs. West, a note of sadness creeping
into her voice.

"But you haven't answered my question," persisted Dorothy. "Why is it
that we women love men?"

Mrs. West was not conscious of the quaint phrasing of her daughter's
remark.