s by the broad walk leading to the large
tropical greenhouse, and gazed idly at the stream of passers-by.

"I wish I were a girl bird," said Dorothy dreamily, as she listened to
the outpourings of a blackbird fluting from a neighbouring tree.

Mrs. West smiled. She was very happy.

"It would be lovely to be made love to like that," continued Dorothy,
"so much nicer than---- Mother, darling, look!" she broke off
suddenly, clutching Mrs. West's arm. "There's John Dene."

Following the direction of her daughter's eyes, Mrs. West saw a rather
thick-set man with hunched-up shoulders, looking straight in front of
him, a cigar gripped aggressively between his teeth. He was walking in
the direction that would bring him within a few feet of the seat on
which they sat.

"He'll never see us," whispered Dorothy excitedly. "He never sees
anything, not even a joke. Oh! I wish he would," she added. "I
should so like you to meet him."

Mrs. West did not speak; she was gazing with interest at the
approaching figure.

"Mother dear, do you think you could faint?" Dorothy's eyes were
shining with excitement.

"Faint!" echoed Mrs. West.

"Yes, then I could call for help and John Dene would come, and you
would get to know him. I'm sure he'll never see us."

"Hush, dear, he might hear what you are saying," said Mrs. West.

When John Dene was within a few feet of them, Dorothy's sunshade fell
forward, seeming to bring him back with a start to his surroundings.
Instinctively he stepped forward, picked up the sunshade and lifting
his hat handed it to Dorothy. For a moment there was a puzzled
expression in his eyes, followed instantly by one of recognition; and
then John Dene smiled, and Mrs. West liked him.

"You see, I found my way," he said to Dorothy when she had introduced
him to her mother, and for some reason she blushed.

"We often come here," said Dorothy lamely, conscious that her mother's
eyes were upon her.

"It's fine. I've just been looking around," he remarked, as he took a
seat beside Mrs. West. "We haven't anything like this in Can'da," he
added generously.

"I suppose you have parks, though," said Mrs. West conversationally.

"Sure," he replied; "but this is way beyond anything we've got."

"You don't think it wants gingering-up then, Mr. Dene," asked Dorothy
demurely.

"Dorothy!" expostulated Mrs. West in shocked tones; but John Dene
merely looked at her, at first without understanding and th