JOHN DENE GOES TO KEW
"And now we'll go to Kew and say how-do-you-do to the rhododendrons," cried Dorothy, as she rolled up her napkin and slipped it into the silver ring that lay beside her plate. "I'll go and make myself smart; and mother"—she paused at the door—"mind you put on your new hat that makes you look so wicked."
Mrs. West smiled what Dorothy called her "Saturday afternoon smile."
Half an hour later Dorothy was gazing at herself in the looking-glass over the dining-room mantelpiece. With a sigh half of content, half of rebelliousness she turned as Mrs. West entered. For a moment she stood looking enquiringly at her daughter.
"Shall I do?" she demanded impudently. "I've put on my very best, undies and all."
"But why, Dorothy?" began Mrs. West.
"Oh, I just wanted to feel best to-day. I wonder if John Dene notices legs, mother," she added inconsequently.
"Really, Dorothy!" began Mrs. West, with widening eyes.
"Well, I've got rather nice legs, and—Oh! but I'm sure he doesn't. We had fillets of sole done up in a most wonderful way the other day, and he asked if it was cod. He's got cod on the brain, poor dear." With a sigh she turned once more to regard herself in the looking-glass. "If he could see me in this hat, it would be all 'u.p.' with Honest John;" and she laughed wickedly as she caught her mother's eye.
"I wish you wouldn't use such expressions," protested Mrs. West gently, "and—and——" She stopped and looked appealingly at her daughter.