the ground. The
Baron laid his across it, the pipes struck up a less formidable, but
if anything more exciting air, and the two noblemen, springing
simultaneously from the ground, began what the Count confidently trusted
their American hosts would accept as the national sworddance.

This lasted for some considerable time, and gave the Count an
opportunity of testifying his remarkable agility and the Baron of
displaying the greater part of his generously proportioned limbs, while
the lung power of both became from that moment proverbial in the glen.

At the conclusion of this ceremony the chieftain, crimson, breathless,
and radiant, a sight for gods and ladies, advanced to greet his host.

"Very happy to see you, Lord Tulliwuddle," said Mr. Maddison. "Allow
me to offer you my very sincere congratulations on your exceedingly
interesting exhibition. Welcome to Lincoln Lodge, your lordship! My
daughter--my son."

Eleanor, almost as flushed as the Baron by her headlong rush from the
keep at the conclusion of the sword-dance, threw him such a smile as
none of her admirers had ever enjoyed before; while he, incapable of
speech beyond a gasped "Ach!" bowed so low that the Count had gently
to adjust his kilt. Then followed the approach of the Gallosh family,
attired in costumes of Harris tweed and tartan selected and arranged
under the artistic eye of Count Bunker, and escorted, to their huge
delight, by six picked clansmen. Their formal presentation having been
completed by a last skirl on the bagpipes, the whole party moved in
procession to the banqueting-hall.

"A complete success, I flatter myself," thought Count Bunker, with
excusable complacency.

To the banquet itself it is scarcely possible for a mere mortal
historian to pay a fitting tribute. Every rarity known to the gourmet
that telegraph could summon to the table in time was served in course
upon course. Even the sweetmeats in the little gold dishes cost on an
average a dollar a bon-bon, while the wine was hardly less valuable than
liquid radium. Or at least such was the sworn information subsequently
supplied by Count Bunker to the reporter of "The Torrydhulish Herald."

Eleanor was in her highest spirits. She sat between the Baron and
Mr. Gallosh, delighted with the honest pleasure and admiration of the
merchant, and all the time becoming more satisfied with the demeanor and
conversation of the chief. In fact, the only disappointment she felt was
connected