ntinued Dorothy, her head on one side, "I like John Dene. It
must be ripping to be able to bully a First Lord of the Admiralty," she
added irrelevantly.

"Bully a First Lord," said Mrs. West. Mrs. West seemed to be in a
perpetual state of repeating in a bewildered manner her daughter's
startling statements.

"He doesn't care for anybody. He calls Mr. Blair, that's Sir Lyster's
secretary, the prize seal, and I'm sure he takes a delight in
frightening the poor man. That's the best of being a Canadian, you see
you don't care a damn----"

"Dorothy!" There was horror in Mrs. West's voice.

"I'm so sorry, mother dear; but it slipped out, you know, and really
it's such an awfully convenient word, isn't it? It's so different from
not caring a bother, or not caring a blow. Anyway, when you're a
Canadian you don't care a--well you know, for anybody. If a man
happens to be a lord or a duke, you're rude to him just to show that
you're as good as he is. Sometimes, mother, I wish I were a Canadian,"
said Dorothy pensively. "I should so like to 'ginger-up' Sir Lyster."

"Your language, my dear," said Mrs. West gently.

"Oh, that's John Dene," said Dorothy airily. "That's his favourite
expression, 'ginger-up.' He came over here to 'ginger-up' the
Admiralty, and in fact 'ginger-up' anybody who didn't very strongly
object to being 'gingered-up,' and those who did, well he gingers them
up just the same. You should see poor Mr. Blair under the process."
Dorothy laughed as she thought of Mr. Blair's sufferings. "The girls
call him 'Oh, Reginald!' and he looks it," she added.

Mrs. West smiled vaguely, finding it a little difficult to follow her
daughter along these paths of ultra-modernism.

"You see, if Sir Lyster says to me 'go,' I have to go," continued
Dorothy, "and if he says to me 'come,' I have to come; but if he says
to John Dene 'go,' he just says 'shucks.'"

"Says what, Dorothy?"

"Shucks!" she repeated with a laugh, "it means go to--well, you know,
mother."

"And does he say that to Sir Lyster?" enquired Mrs. West in awe-struck
voice.

Dorothy nodded vigorously.

"The only one that seems to understand him is Sir Bridgman North, and
he never stands on his dignity, you know. If I were in the Navy," said
Dorothy meditatively, "I should like to be under Sir Bridgman, he's
really rather a dear."

"But why do----" began Mrs. West, "why does Sir Lyster allow----"

"Allow," broke in Dorothy. "It doesn'