ire!"

"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.
Gallosh, and even the ladies could not but indulgently agree that he had
exhibited a strength of head worthy of his race.

"And yet he was a wee thing touched too," said Mr. Rentoul sagely.
"Maybe you were too far gone yourself, Duncan, to notice it, and the
ladies would just think it was gallantry; but I saw it in his voice and
his legs--oh, just a wee thingie, nothing to speak of."

"Surely you are mistaken!" cried Miss Gallosh. "Wasn't it only
excitement at finding himself at Hechnahoul?"

"There's two kinds of excitement," answered the oracle. "And this was
the kind I'm best acquaint with. Oh, but it was just a wee bittie."

"And who thinks the worse of him for it?" cried Mr. Gallosh.

This question was answered by general acclamation in a manner and with a
spirit that proved how deeply his lordship's gracious behavior had laid
hold of all hearts.

CHAPTER XI

Breakfast in the private parlor was laid for two; but it was only Count
Bunker, arrayed in a becoming suit of knickerbockers, and looking as
fresh as if he had feasted last night on aerated water, who sat down to
consume it.

"Who would be his ordinary everyday self when there are fifty more
amusing parts to play," he reflected gaily, as he sipped his coffee.
"Blitzenberg and Essington were two conventional members of society,