Tootles, to think of."

Of course Mrs. Odell-Carney could not be expected to know that Edith was
blithely jesting.

"My dear Edith," he said, just as firmly "Tootles has nothing to do with
the case. You know, and Constance knows, and I know, and the whole world
will soon know that I'm not even related to her, poor little beggar. I
don't see why she should come between me and happiness just because she
happens to bear a social resemblance to a man who isn't her father.
Come, now, let's talk over the situation sensibly."

Just then they passed beyond the hearing of the astonished eavesdropper.
Good heaven, what was this? Not his child? Two minutes later Mrs.
Odell-Carney was back at the spring where they had left her somnolent
husband, who had refused to climb a hill because all of his breath was
required to smoke a cigaret.

"Carney," she said sternly, her lips rigid, her eyes set hard upon his
face, "how long have the Medcrofts been married?"

He blinked heavily. "How the devil should I know? 'Pon me word, it's--"

"Four years, I think Mrs. Rodney told me. How old is that baby?"

"'Pon me soul, Agatha, I'm as much in the dark as you. I don't know."

"A little over a year, I'd say. Well, I just heard Medcroft say that she
wasn't his child. Whose is it?" She stood there like an accusing angel.
He started violently, and his jaw dropped; an expression of alarmed