The Husbands of Edith

Husbands of Edith, The

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Title: The Husbands of Edith
Author: George Barr McCutcheon

Release Date: September 18, 2005 [eBook #16719]
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THE HUSBANDS OF EDITH
by
GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
With Illustrations by Harrison Fisher and Decorations by Theodore B.
Hapgood
New York Dodd, Mead & Company The University Press, Cambridge,
U.S.A.
1908

* * * * * * *
OTHER BOOKS BY MR. McCUTCHEON
NEDRA BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK THE DAY OF THE DOG
THE PURPLE PARASOL THE SHERRODS GRAUSTARK CASTLE
CRANEYCROW BREWSTER'S MILLIONS JANE CABLE
COWARDICE COURT THE DAUGHTER OF ANDERSON CROW
THE FLYERS
* * * * * * *

[Illustration: Motif]
[Illustration: "'Don't you think Connie is a perfect dear?'" (page 54)]

CONTENTS
CHAPTER Page
I HUSBANDS AND WIFE 1
II THE SISTER-IN-LAW 17
III THE DISTANT COUSINS 37
IV THE WOULD-BE BROTHER-IN-LAW 51
V THE FRIENDS OF THE FAMILY 70
VI OTHER RELATIONS 87
VII THE THREE GUARDIANS 102
VIII THE PRODIGAL HUSBAND 116

ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Don't you think Connie is a perfect dear?'" (page 54) Frontispiece
Brock 24
Katherine 44
"She began to detect a decided falling off in his ardour" 74
"'I do love you,' she said simply" 98

THE HUSBANDS OF EDITH
CHAPTER I

HUSBANDS AND WIFE
Brock was breakfasting out-of-doors in the cheerful little garden of the
Hôtel Chatham. The sun streamed warmly upon the concrete floor of
the court just beyond the row of palms and oleanders that fringed the
rail against which his Herald rested, that he might read as he ran, so to
speak. He was the only person having _déjeuner_ on the "terrace," as
he named it to the obsequious waiter who always attended him. Charles
was the magnet that drew Brock to the Chatham (that excellent French
hotel with the excellent English name). It is beside the question to
remark that one is obliged to reverse the English when directing a
cocher to the Chatham. The Paris cabman looks blank and more than
usually unintelligent when directed to drive to the Chatham, but his
face radiates with joy when his fare is inspired to substitute Sha-_t'am_,
with distinct emphasis on the final syllable. Then he cracks his whip
and lashes his sorry nag, with passive appreciation of his own
astuteness, all the way to the Rue Daunou. The street is so short that he
almost invariably takes one to it instead of to the hotel itself. But one
must say Sha-_t'am_!
Charles was standing, alert but pensive, quite near at hand, ready to
replenish the bowl with honey (Brock was especially fond of it), but
with his eyes cocked inquiringly, even eagerly, in the direction of an
upstairs window across the court, beyond which a thoughtless guest of
the establishment was making her toilette in blissful ignorance of the
fact that the flimsy curtains were not tightly drawn. Brock had gone to
the Chatham for years just because Charles was a fixture there. Charles
spoke the most execrably picturesque English, served with a
punctiliousness that savoured almost of the overbearing, and boasted
that he had acquired the art of making American cocktails in the
Waldorf during a five weeks' residence in the United States.
It was a lazy morning. Brock was happy. He was even interested when
a porter came forth and unravelled a long roll of garden hose, with
which he abruptly began to splash water upon the concrete surface of
the court without regard for distance or direction. Moreover, he
proceeded to water the palms at Brock's elbow, operating from a spot

no less than twenty feet away. He likewise was casting inquiring
glances at divers windows--few if any at the plants--until the faithful
Charles restored him to earth by means of certain subdued injunctions
and less moderate gesticulations, from which it could be readily
gathered that "M'sieur was eating, not bathing." Whereupon the utterly
uncrushed porter splashed water at right angles, much to Brock's relief,
while all his fellow porters, free or engaged, took up the quarrel with
rare disregard for cause or justice. A femme de chambre, from a
convenient window, joined in the hubbub without