"Are we not nearly to Scotland yet?" he inquired
some fifty times.

" 'My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the
dears!' " hummed the abdicated nobleman, whose
hilarity had actually increased (if that were possible)
since his descent into the herd again.

All the travellers' familiar landmarks were hailed by
the gleeful diplomatist with encouraging comments.

"Ach, look! Beauteeful view! How quickly it is
gone! Hurray! Ve must be nearly to Scotland."

A panegyric on the rough sky-line of the north
country fells was interrupted by the entrance of the
dining-car attendant. Learning that they would dine,
he politely inquired in what names he should engage
their seats. Then, for an instant, a horrible confusion
nearly overcame the Baron. He--a von Blitzenberg--
to give a false name! His color rose, he stammered,
and only in the nick of time caught his companion's
eye.

"Ze Lord Tollyvoddle," he announced, with an
effort as heroic as any of his ancestors' most warlike
enterprises.

Too impressed to inquire how this remarkable title
should be spelled, the man turned to the other