"A very pleasant one," said Theodora, crumbling her roll. "Papa met some
old friends, and we all dined together at the Ritz. I wish you had been
able to come, it might have done you good, it was so gay!"

"I am not fit for gayety," said her husband, peevishly, scooping out
spoonfuls of yolk. "And who were the party, pray?"

Theodora obediently enumerated them all, and the high-sounding title of
the Russian Prince, to say nothing of the English lord and lady, had a
mollifying effect on Josiah Brown. He even remembered the name of
Bracondale--had he not been a grocer's assistant in the small town of
Bracondale for a whole year in his apprenticeship days?

"Papa wants us to breakfast to-day with him at Henry's for you to meet
some of them," Theodora said, with more confidence.

Josiah had taken a second egg and his frown was gone.

"We'll see about it, we'll see about it," he grunted; but his wife felt
more hopeful, and was even unusually solicitous of his wants in the way
of coffee and marmalade and cream. Josiah was shrewd if he did happen to
be deeply self-absorbed in his health, and he noticed that Theodora's
eyes were brighter and her step more elastic than usual.

He knew he had bought "one of them there aristocrats," as his old aunt,
who had kept a public-house at New Norton, would have said. Bought her
with solid gold--he had no illusions on this subject, and he quite
realized if the solid gold had not been amassed out of England, so that
to her family he could be represented as "something from the
colonies--rather rough, but such a good fellow"--even Captain