“What great variety of Americans there are,” she reflected.  “Mrs. Medcroft and her sister are Americans.  Compare them with the Rodneys and Mr. Ulstervelt.  No, Carney, I’ll not start a scandal.  The Rodneys would not understand, as you say.  They’d tear her to shreds and gloat over the mutilation.  No; we’ll have her to see us in London.  I like her.”

“And, by Jove, Agatha, I like her sister.”

“My dear, the baby is a darling.”

“But what an ass Medcroft is!”

And thus is it proved that Mrs. Odell-Carney was not only a dutiful wife in taking her husband into her confidence, but also that jointly they enjoyed a peculiarly rational outlook upon the world as they had come to know it and to feel for the people thereof.  It is of small consequence that they could not find it in their power to be in tune with the virtuous Rodneys:  the Rodneys were conditions, not effects.

However that may be, it was Katherine Rodney, pretty, plump, and spoiled, who pulled the first stone from the foundation of Medcroft’s house of cards.  Katherine had convinced herself that she was deeply enamoured of the volatile Freddie; the more she thought that she loved him, the greater became the conviction that he did not care as much for her as he professed.  She began to detect a decided falling off in his ardour; it was no use trying to hide the fact from herself that Constance was the most disturbing symptom in evidence.  Jealousy succeeded speculation.  Katherine decided to be hateful; she could not have helped it if she had tried.

It was very evident, to her at least, that Freddie was not to blame; he was being led on by the artful Miss Fowler.  There could be no doubt of it—­none in the least, declared Miss Rodney in the privacy of her own miserable reflections.

Just as she was on the point of carrying her woes to her mother, an astounding revelation came to her out of a clear sky; an entirely new condition came into the problem.  It dawned upon her suddenly, without warning, that Roxbury Medcroft was in love with his sister-in-law!

[Illustration:  “She began to detect a decided falling off in his ardour.”]

When she burst in upon her mother, half an hour later, that excellent lady started up from her couch, alarmed by the excitement in her daughter’s face.  Mrs. Rodney, good soul, was one of the kind who always think the world is coming to an end, or the house is on fire, or the king has been assassinated, if any one approaches with a look of distress in his face.

“My dear, my dear!” she cried, as Katherine stopped tragically in the doorway.  “What has happened to your father?  Speak!”

“Mamma, it’s worse than that!  I—­”

“Merciful heaven!” The good lady blindly reached for her smelling salts.

“I’ve made a dreadful discovery,” went on Katherine in suppressed tones.  “It came to me like a flash.  I couldn’t believe my own brain.  So I watched them from my window.  There’s no doubt about it, mamma.  It’s as plain as the nose on your face.  He—­”