THE WOULD-BE BROTHER-IN-LAW.
The next morning, bright and early, Mr. Alfred Rodney, a telegram in his hand, charged down the hall to Mrs. Medcroft's door. With characteristic Far West impulsiveness he banged on the door. A sleepy voice asked who was there.
"It's me—Rodney. Get up. I want to see Medcroft. Say, Roxbury, wake up!"
"Roxbury?" came in shrill tones from within. "He—Isn't he upstairs? Good heaven, Mr. Rodney, what has happened? What has happened?"
"Upstairs? What the deuce is he doing upstairs?"'
"He's—he's sleeping! Do tell me what's the matter?"
"Isn't this Mr. Medcroft's room?"
"Ye-es—but he isn't in. He objects to the noise. Oh, has anything happened to Roxbury?" She was standing just inside the door, and her voice betrayed agitation.
"My dear Edith, don't get excited. I have a telegram from—"
She uttered a shriek.