"Roxbury would never forgive you.
We have both placed the utmost confidence in you, Mr. Brock, and--"
"'Sh! Say 'Roxbury, dear'!" interposed the practical Constance. "The
walls may have ears, my dears."
Then Mrs. Medcroft plaintively implored his forgiveness, and said that
she was miserable and ashamed and very unappreciative. Brock, in deep
humility, begged her pardon for his unnecessary harshness, and promised
not to offend again.
"The first quarrel," cried Constance delightedly. "How nicely you've
made it up. And you've been married less than a week!"
"Roxbury and I didn't have our first quarrel until we'd been married a
year," said Edith reflectively.
"Oh, I say, Edith," exclaimed Brock, with a dark frown, "I'd rather you
wouldn't be forever extolling the good qualities of my predecessor. It's
very bad taste. Very much like the pies mother used to make."
"Silly!" cried Medcroft's wife, now in fine humour.
"Besides, Rox is an Englishman. It would take him a year to produce a
quarrel. The American husband is not so confounded slow. I won't live up
to Roxbury in everything."
It was decided that Constance should greet the Rodneys upon their
arrival; the Medcrofts were not to appear until dinner time. Afterwards
the entire party would attend the opera, which was then in the closing
week. Brock, with splendid prodigality, had taken a box for the final
performance of "Tristan and Isolde.
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