"Spread it!" she sniffed indignantly. "Are they not my own cousins?
Twice removed," she concluded as an after-thought. "Do you imagine that
_I_ would spread it? He may be an unnatural father, but I shall not be
the one to say so. Please bear that in mind, Alfred."

"Well, let's not argue about it," said Mr. Rodney, departing before she
could disobey the injunction.

Of course, there was no little confusion at the Hotel Tyrol when it came
to establishing the Medcrofts. For a while it looked as though Brock
would have to share a room with Tootles, relegating Burton to an alcove
and a couch; but Constance, in a strictly family conclave, was seized by
an inspiration which saved the day--or the night, more properly
speaking.

"I have it, Roxbury," she cried, her eyes dancing. "You can sleep on the
balcony. A great many invalids do, you know."

"But, good heaven, I'm not an invalid," he remonstrated feebly.

"Of course, you're not, but can't you _say_ you are? It's quite simple.
You sleep in the open air because it does your lungs so much good. Oh, I
know! It isn't necessary to expand your chest like that. They're
perfectly sound, I daresay. I should think you'd rather enjoy the fresh
air. Besides, there isn't a room to be had in the hotel."

"But suppose it should rain!" he protested, knowing full well he was
doomed.

"You poor boy, haven't you an umbrella?" she cried with such a perfectly