t."

"If what's all right?"

"J. D."

"What do you mean, Rojjie?" cried Dorothy, blushing.

"Did he propose? You know I ran in this afternoon and gave him a hint."

"You what?" cried Dorothy aghast.

"Oh! I just gave him a sort of hint that he was----"

"You wretched little creature!" cried Dorothy, seizing Marjorie and
shaking her vigorously. There was a look in her eyes that half
frightened the girl.

"Help! Oh, Mrs. West!" cried Marjorie, "she's killing me."

"What did you say to him?" demanded Dorothy fiercely.

"I just gave him a hint," repeated Marjorie airily. "I knew he was in
love with you."

"What did you say to him?" Again Dorothy shook her.

"Oh, Wessie, if you do that you'll shake all my hair off, not to speak
of my teeth. All I said was that you had wasted away when he was lost,
and mind, you've got to ask me down to your place, wherever it is,
because it's all through me. Oughtn't she, Mrs. West?" she appealed.

Mrs. West smiled a little uncertainly.

"Marjorie, you're a pig," cried Dorothy, "and I don't believe you did
go and see him."

"Oh! didn't I, then why do you suppose I've got my new stockings on?"
she cried, lifting her skirts.

"Children, children," smiled Mrs. West.

"My chief says he'll be made a baronet, so that'll be all right for the
kids," said Marjorie.

"Rojjie!" cried Dorothy in confusion, and a moment later she had rushed
from the room.

When Dorothy returned to the little drawing-room a quarter of an hour
later, she found that Marjorie had accepted Mrs. West's invitation to
stay to dinner.

"Is he going to call this evening?" she asked eagerly.

"Don't be inquisitive," cried Dorothy, conscious that she was blushing.

"You're in love with him, Dorothy, aren't you?" persisted Marjorie.

"Oh, mother, please tread on this horrid little creature," cried
Dorothy; but Mrs. West merely smiled.

"You know," continued Marjorie candidly, "he's not much to look at; but
he beats all those boys at the Admiralty." She shrugged her shoulders
indifferently. "It's nothing but chocolates, lunches and dinners, and
take it out in kisses."

"My dear," said Mrs. West with quiet dignity, "you mustn't talk like
that."

"I'm so sorry," cried Marjorie contritely; "but you know I get so fed
up, Mrs. West. John Dene's so different. If it hadn't have been for
Dorothy, I should have tried to get him for myself. I could," she
added, looking from one to the other.

"Y