"It was Mrs. Gallosh organized a wee bit entertainment
on his lordship's landing," their host explained
confidentially to the Count. "It's just informal, ye
understand. She's been instructing some of the tenants--
and ma own girls will be there--but, oh, it's
nothing to speak of. If he says a few words in
reply, that'll be all they'll be expecting."

The strains of "Tulliwuddle wha hae" grew ever
louder and, to an untrained ear, more terrific. In
a moment they were mingled with a clapping of hands
and a Highland cheer, the launch glided alongside the
pier, and, supported on his faithful friend's arm, the
panic-stricken Tulliwuddle staggered ashore. Before
his dazed eyes there seemed to be arrayed the vastest
and most barbaric concourse his worst nightmare had
ever imagined. Six pipers played within ten paces
of him, each of them arrayed in the full panoply of
the clan; at least a dozen dogs yelped their exultation;
and from the surrounding throng two ancient
men in tartan and four visions in snowy white stepped
forth to greet the distinguished visitors.

The first hitch in the proceedings occurred at this
point. According to the unofficial but carefully
considered programme, the pipers ought to have ceased
their melody; but, whether inspired by ecstatic loyalty
or because the Tulliwuddle pibroch took longer to perform
than had been anticipated, they continued to skirl
with such vigor that expostulations passed entirely