Count Bunker Part 10

"Goot Mr. Gallosh, fair Mrs. Gallosh, divine Mees Gallosh, and all ze ladies and gentlemans, how sorry I vas I could not make my speech before, I cannot eggspress. I had a headache, and vas not vell vithin.

Ach, soch zings vill happen in a new climate. Bot now I am inspired to tell you I loff you all! I zank you eggstremely! How can I return zis hospitality? I vill tell you! You must all go to Bavaria and stay mit----"

"Tulliwuddle! Tulliwuddle!" shouted Bunker frantically, to the great amazement of the company. "Allow me to invite the company myself to stay with me in Bavaria!"

The Baron turned crimson, as he realized the abyss of error into which he had so nearly plunged. Adroitly the Count covered his confusion with a fit of laughter so ingeniously hearty that in a moment he had joined in it too.

"Ha, ha, ha!" he shouted. "Zat was a leetle joke at my friend's eggspense. It is here, in my castle, you shall visit me; some day very soon I shall live in him. Meanvile, dear Mrs. Gallosh, gonsider it your home! For me you make it heaven, and I cannot ask more zan zat! Now let us gom and have some fon!"

A salvo of applause greeted this conclusion. At the Baron's impetuous request the cigars were brought into the hall, and ladies and gentlemen all trooped out together.

"I cannot vait till I have seen Miss Gallosh dance ze Highland reel," he explained to her gratified mother; "she has promised me."

"But you must dance too, Lord Tulliwuddle," said ravishing Miss Gallosh.

"You know you said you would."

"A promise to a lady is a law," replied the Baron gallantly, adding in a lower tone, "especially to so fair a lady!"

"It's a pity his lordship hadn't on his kilt," put in Mr. Gallosh genially.

"By ze Gad, I vill put him on! Hoch! Ve vill have some fon!"

The Baron rushed from the hall, followed in a moment by his n.o.ble friend. Bunker found him already wrapping many yards of tartan about his waist.

"But, my dear fellow, you must take off your trousers," he expostulated.

Despite his glee, the Baron answered with something of the Blitzenberg dignity--

"Ze bare leg I cannot show to-night--not to dance mit ze young ladies.

Ven I have practised, perhaps; but not now, Bonker."

Accordingly the portraits of four centuries of Tulliwuddles beheld their representative appear in the very castle of Hechnahoul with his trouser-legs capering beneath an ill-hung petticoat of tartan. And, to make matters worse in their canvas eyes, his own shameless laugh rang loudest in the mirth that greeted his entrance.

"Ze garb of Gaul!" he announced, shaking with hilarity. "Gom, Bonker, dance mit me ze Highland fling!"

The first night of Lord Tulliwuddle's visit to his ancestral halls is still remembered among his native hills. The Count also, his mind now rapturously at ease, performed prodigies. They danced together what they were pleased to call the latest thing in London, sang a duet, waltzed with the younger ladies, till hardly a head was left unturned, and, in short, sent away the ministers and their ladies, the five Miss Cameron-Campbells, the reading-party, and particularly the factor, with a new conception of a Highland chief. As for the house-party, they felt that they were fortunate beyond the lot of most ordinary mortals.

CHAPTER X

The Baron sat among his heirlooms, laboriously disengaging himself from his kilt. Fitfully throughout this process he would warble s.n.a.t.c.hes of an air which Miss Gallosh had sung.

"Whae vould not dee for Sharlie?" he trolled, "Ze yong chevalier!"

"Then you don't think of leaving to-morrow morning?" asked Count Bunker, who was watching him with a complacent air.

"Mein Gott, no fears!"

"We had better wait, perhaps, till the afternoon?"

"I go not for tree veeks! Gaben sie--das ist, gim'me zat tombler. Vun more of mountain juice to ze health of all Galloshes! Partic'ly of vun!

Eh, old Bonker?"

The Count took care to see that the mountain juice was well diluted.

His friend had already found Scottish hospitality difficult to enjoy in moderation.

"Baron, you gave us a marvellously lifelike representation of a Jacobite chieftain!"

The Baron laughed a trifle vacantly.

"Ach, it is easy for me. Himmel, a Blitzenberg should know how!

Vollytoddle--Toddyvolly--whatsh my name, Bonker?"

The Count informed him.

"Tollivoddlesh is nozing to vat I am at home! Abs'lutely nozing! I have a house twice as big as zis, and servants--Ach, so many I know not! Bot, mein Bonker, it is not soch fon as zis! Mein Gott, I most get to bed. I toss ze caber to-morrow."

And upon the arm of his faithful ally he moved cautiously towards his bedroom.

But if he had enjoyed his evening well, his pleasure was nothing to the gratification of his hosts. They could not bring themselves to break up their party for the night: there were so many delightful reminiscences to discuss.

"Of all the evenings ever I spent," declared Mr. Gallosh, "this fair takes the cake. Just to think of that aristocratic young fellow being as companionable-like! When first I put eyes on him, I said to myself--'You're not for the likes of us. All lords and ladies is your kind. Never a word did he say in the boat till he heard the pipes play, and then I really thought he was frightened! It must just have been a kind of home-sickness or something."

"It'll have been the tuning up that set his teeth on edge," Mrs. Gallosh suggested practically.

"Or perhaps his heart was stirred with thoughts of the past!" said Miss Gallosh, her eyes brightening.

In any case, all were agreed that the development of his hereditary instincts had been extraordinarily rapid.

"I never really properly talked with a lord before," sighed Mrs.

Rentoul; "I hope they're all like this one."

Mrs. Gallosh, on the other hand, who boasted of having had one tete-a-tete and joined in several general conversations with the peerage, appraised Lord Tulliwuddle with greater discrimination.

"Ah, he's got a soupcon!" she declared. "That's what I admire!"

"Do you mean his German accent?" asked Mr. Cromarty-Gow, who was renowned for a cynical wit, and had been seeking an occasion to air it ever since Lord Tulliwuddle had made Miss Gallosh promise to dance a reel with him.

But the feeling of the party was so strongly against a breath of irreverent criticism, and their protest so emphatic, that he presently strolled off to the smoking-room, wishing that Miss Gallosh, at least, would exercise more critical discrimination.

"Do you think would they like breakfast in their own room, Duncan?"

asked Mrs. Gallosh.

"Offer it them--offer it them; they can but refuse, and it's a kind of compliment to give them the opportunity."

"His lordship will not be wanting to rise early," said Mr. Rentoul. "Did you notice what an amount he could drink, Duncan? Man, and he carried it fine! But he'll be the better of a sleep-in in the morning, him coming from a journey too."

Mr. Rentoul was a recognized authority on such questions, having, before the days of his affluence, travelled for a notable firm of distillers.

His praise of Lord Tulliwuddle's capacity was loudly echoed by Mr.