"We must know each other better, my dear Mrs. Medcroft," she had said
amiably. Edith thought of the famous drawing-rooms in Mayfair and
exulted vastly. "And Mr. Medcroft, too. I am so interested in men who
have a craft. They always are worth while, really, don't you know. How
like an American Mr. Medcroft is. I daresay he gets that from having
lived so long with an American wife. And what a darling baby! She's
wonderfully like Mr. Medcroft, don't you think? No one could mistake
that child's father--never! And, my dear," leaning close with a
whimsical air of confidence, "that's more than can be said of certain
children I know of in very good families."

Edith may have gasped and looked wildly about in quest of help, but her
agitation went unnoticed by the new friend. From that momentous hour
Mrs. Medcroft encouraged an inordinate regard for the circumspect. She
decided that it was best never to be alone with her husband; the future
was now too precious to go unguarded for a single moment that might be
unexplainable when the triumphal hour of revelation came to hand. She
impressed this fact upon her sister, with the result that while Brock
was never alone with his prudent wife, he was seldom far from the side
of the adorable lieutenant. As if precociously providing for an ultimate
alibi, the fickle Tootles began to show unmistakable signs of aversion
for her temporary parent. Mrs. Rodney, being an old-fashioned mother,
could not reconcile herself to this unfilial attitude, and gravely
confided to her husband that she feared Medcroft was mistreating his
child behind their backs.

"Well, the poodle likes him, anyway," protested Mr. Rodney, who liked
Brock; "and if a dog likes a man he's not altogether a bad lot. If I
were you, I wouldn't spread the report."