mine," she murmured as
she left the hotel, after having given strict injunctions that the note
be handed to John Dene immediately he returned.

CHAPTER XXI

MARJORIE ROGERS PAYS A CALL

"Well, mother darling," cried Dorothy, as she jerked the pins into her
hat, "you've lost the odd trick."

"The odd trick!" repeated Mrs. West, looking up with a smile into her
daughter's flushed and happy face. "What odd trick?"

"John Dene of Toronto. Whoop! I want to jazz. I wonder if he
jazzes;" then, with a sudden change of mood she dropped down beside her
mother's chair and buried her face in her lap. When she looked up her
eyes were wet with tears. "Mother, darling, I'm so happy." She smiled
a rainbow smile.

"What did you mean about the odd trick, dear?" enquired Mrs. West
greatly puzzled, accustomed as she was to her daughter's rapid change
of mood.

"John Dene's the odd trick," she repeated, "and I'm going to marry
him." Again she hid her face.

"Dorothy!"

"I am, mother, really and really." She looked up for a moment, then
once more she buried her face in her mother's lap.

"Dorothy dear, what do you mean?"

"Oh! he was so funny when he proposed," gurgled Dorothy, "and I just
said 'shucks.' That seemed to please him."

"Dorothy dear, are you joking?"

"Not unless John Dene's a joke, mother dear," she replied. "Wouldn't
it be funny to call him Jack?" Then she told her mother of the
happenings of the afternoon.

"Please say you're glad," she said a little wistfully.

"I'm--I'm so surprised, dear," said Mrs. West, stroking her daughter's
head gently; "but I'm glad, very glad."

"I thought you would be, and I shall be Lady Dene. Everybody at the
Admiralty says he'll get a title, and you'll have to say to the
servants, 'Is her ladyship at home?' You won't forget, mother, will
you?" She looked up with mock anxiety into her mother's face.

Mrs. West smiled down at Dorothy; her eyes too were wet.

"But oh! there's such a lot of spade work to be done," continued
Dorothy. "I shall begin with his boots."

"His boots!"

"They're so dreadful, mother. They're all built up in front as if they
were made to kick with, and when I marry him, if there's any kicking to
be done, I'm going to do it."

"Of course you realise, dear, that he's much older than you," said Mrs.
West hesitatingly.

"He's a perfect baby-in-arms compared with me," she smiled at her
mother, a quaint confident little smile.