And, by way of further analogy, Brock was a thoroughly likable chap, beside being handsome and a thoroughbred to the core.  It’s not betraying a secret to affirm, cold-bloodedly, that Miss Fowler had not allied herself with the enterprise until after she had pinned Roxbury down to facts concerning Brock’s antecedents.  She was properly relieved to find that he came of a fine old family and that he had led more than one cotillion in New York.

He experienced a remarkable change of front in respect to Roxbury Medcroft before the breakfast was over.  It may have been due to the spell of her eyes or to the call of her voice, but it remains an unchallenged fact that he no longer thought of Medcroft as a stupid bungler; instead, he had come to regard him as a good and irreproachable Samaritan.  All of which goes to prove that a divinity shapes our ends, rough hew them how we may.

“I’m sure we shall get on famously,” he said, as she signified her desire to return to the compartment.  “I’ve always longed for a nice, agreeable sister-in-law.”

“Her mission in life, up to a certain stage, is to make the man appreciate the fact that he has, after all, been snapped up by a small but deserving family,” she said blithely.  “It is also her duty to pour oil on troubled waters and strew flowers along the connubial highway, so long as her kind offices are not resented.  By the way, Roxbury, I am now about to preserve you from bitter reproaches.  You have forgotten to order coffee and rolls for your wife.”

“Great Scott!  So I have!  It’s nine o’clock.”  He ordered the coffee and rolls to be sent in at once.  “I hope she hasn’t starved to death.”

“My dear Roxbury,” she said sternly, “I must take you under my wing.  You have much to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours, not the least of your duties being the subjugation of Tootles and Raggles.  Tootles is fifteen months old, it may interest you to know.  We can’t afford to have Tootles scream with terror every time she sees you, and it would be most unfortunate if Raggles should growl and snap at you as he does at all suspicious strangers.  Once in a while he bites too.  Do you like babies?”

“Yes, I—­I think I do,” he said doubtingly.  “I daresay I could cultivate a taste for ’em.  But, I say,” with eager enthusiasm, “I love dogs!”

“It may be distinctly in your favour that Raggles loathes the real Roxbury.  He growls every time that Roxy kisses Edith.”

“Has he ever bitten Roxy for it?”

“No,” dubiously, “but Roxy has had to kick him on several occasions.”

“How very tiresome,—­to kick and kiss at the same time.”

“Raggles is very jealous, you understand.”

“That’s more than I can say for dear old Roxy.  But I’ll try to anticipate Raggles by compelling Edith to keep her distance,” he said, scowling darkly.  “Has it not occurred to you that Tootles will be pretty—­er—­much of a nuisance when it comes to mountain climbing?” He felt his way carefully in saying this.