obstinate, untractable thing than he had even suspected it could be. The
right side of his face was in a condition of semi-paralysis due to the
muscular exactions required; he had a sickening fear that the scowl that
marked his brow was destined to form a perpetual alliance with the smirk
at the corner of his nose, forever destroying the symmetry of his face.
If one who has not the proper facial construction will but attempt the
feat of holding a monocle in place for unbroken hours, he may come to
appreciate at least one of the trials which beset poor Brock.

Every one seemed to be staring at him. He heard more than one American
in the scurrying throng say to another, "English," and he felt relieved
until an Englishman or two upset his confidence by brutally alluding to
him as a "confounded American toady."

It was quite train time before Mrs. Medcroft was seen hurrying in from
the carriage way, pursued by a trio of _facteurs_, laden with bags and
boxes.

"Don't shake hands," she warned in a quick whisper, as they came
together. "I recognised you by the clothes."

"Thank God, it wasn't my face!" he cried. "Are your trunks checked?"

"Yes,--this afternoon. I have nothing but the bags. You have the
tickets? Then let us get aboard. I just couldn't get here earlier," she
whispered guiltily. "We had to say good-by, you know. Poor old Roxy! How
he hated it! I sent Burton and O'Brien on ahead of me. My sister brought
them here in her carriage, and I daresay they're aboard and abed by this
time. You didn't see them? But of course you wouldn't know my maids. How
stupid of me! Don't be alarmed. They have their instructions, Roxbury.