a wide-open eye, before he raised the cap and, in a
decidedly North British accent, thus addressed them--

"My lord--ahem!--your lordship, I should say--
I presume I've the pleasure of seeing Lord Tulliwuddle?"

The Count gently pushed his more distinguished
friend in front. With an embarrassment equal to their
host's, his lordship bowed and gave his hand.

"I am ze Tollyvoddle--vary pleased--Mistair Gosh,
I soppose?"

"Gallosh, my lord. Very honored to welcome you."

In the round eyes of Mr. Gallosh, Count Bunker
perceived an unmistakable stare of astonishment at the
sound of his lordship's accented voice. The Baron,
on his part, was evidently still suffering from his
attack of stage fright; but again the Count's gifts
smoothed the creases from the situation.

"You have not introduced me to our host,
Tulliwuddle," he said, with a gay, infectious confidence.

"Ah, so! Zis is my friend Count Bunker--gom all
ze vay from Austria," responded the Baron, with no
glimmer of his customary aplomb.

Making a mental resolution to warn his ally never