aw. He was further
distressed by Edith's comfortless, though perhaps well-qualified,
announcement that she believed her sister to be in love; she could not
imagine with whom; she only knew she "acted as if she were."

"Besides, Roxbury," she said warningly, "it's a most degenerate husband
who falls in love with his wife's sister."

They were walking in one of the mountain paths, some distance behind the
others. They did not know that Mrs. Odell-Carney had stopped to rest in
the leafy niche above the path. She was lazily fanning herself on the
stone seat that man had provided as an improvement to nature. Being a
sharp-eared person with a London drawing-room instinct, she plainly
could hear what they were saying as they approached. These were the
first words she fully grasped, and they caused her to prick up her ears:

"I don't give a hang, Edith. I'm tired of being her brother-in-law."

"You're tired of me, Roxbury, that's what it is," in plaintive tones.

"You're happy, you love and are loved, so please don't put it that way.
It's not fair. Think of the pitiable position I'm in."

"My dear Roxbury," quite severely, "if there's nothing else that will
influence you, just stop to consider the che-ild! There's Tootles, dear
Tootles, to think of."

Of course Mrs. Odell-Carney could not be expected to know that Edith was
blithely jesting.

"My dear Edith," he said, just as firmly "Tootles has nothing to do with
the case. You know, and Constance knows, and I know, and the whole world
will soon know that I'm not even related to her, poor little beggar. I
don't see why she should come between me and happiness just because she
happens to bear a social resemblance to a man who isn't her father.
Come, now, let's talk over the situation sensibly."

Just then they passed beyond the hearing of the astonished eavesdropper.
Good heaven, what was this? Not his child? Two minutes later Mrs.
Odell-Carney was back at the spring where they had left her somnolent
husband, who had refused to climb a hill because all of his breath was
required to smoke a cigaret.

"Carney," she said sternly, her lips rigid, her eyes set hard upon his
face, "how long have the Medcrofts been married?"

He blinked heavily. "How the devil should I know? 'Pon me word, it's--"

"Four years, I think Mrs. Rodney told me. How old is that baby?"

"'Pon me soul, Agatha, I'm as much in the dark as you. I don't know."

"A little over a year, I'd say. Well, I