“Not at home,” was the reply.

“Oh, well,” said he, “I’ll go in and wait till she comes home.  Come along, parson, and make yourself quite at home.  Oh, never mind, young man,” he continued to the servant; “I know the way.  Come along, parson.”  And with these words he led the way into the reception-room, in which he had been before.

An elderly lady was seated there whom the Baron recognized as having seen before.  It was Lady Dalrymple, whose name was, of course, unknown to him, since he had only exchanged a few words on his former visit.  But as he was naturally chivalrous, and as he was bent on making friends with all in the house, and as he was also in a glorious state of good-will to the entire human race, he at once advanced to the lady and made a low bow.

“How do you do, ma’am?”

Lady Dalrymple bowed good-naturedly, for she was good-natured to a fault.

“I suppose you remember me, ma’am,” said the Baron, in rather a loud voice; for, as the lady was elderly, he had a vague idea that she was deaf—­which impression, I may mention, was altogether unfounded—­“I suppose you remember me, ma’am?  But I haven’t had the pleasure of a regular introduction to you; so we’ll waive ceremony, if you choose, and I’ll introduce myself.  I’m the Baron Atramonte, and this is my very particular friend, the Reverend Saul Tozer.”

“I’m happy to make your acquaintance,” said Lady Dalrymple, with a smile, and not taking the Baron’s offered hand—­not, however, from pride, but simply from laziness—­for she hated the bother, and didn’t consider it good taste.

“I called here, ma’am,” said the Baron, without noticing that Lady Dalrymple had not introduced herself—­“I called here, ma’am, to see my young friend, Miss Minnie Fay.  I’m very sorry that she ain’t at home; but since I am here, I rather think I’ll just set down and wait for her.  I s’pose you couldn’t tell me, ma’am, about how long it’ll be before she comes in?”

Lady Dalrymple hadn’t any idea.

“All right,” said the Baron; “the longer she keeps me waiting, the more welcome she’ll be when she does come.  That’s all I’ve got to say.”

So the Baron handed a chair to the Reverend Saul, and then selecting another for himself in a convenient position, he ensconced himself in it as snugly as possible, and sat in silence for a few minutes.  Lady Dalrymple took no notice of him whatever, but appeared to be engrossed with some trifle of needle-work.

After about five minutes the Baron resumed the task of making himself agreeable.

He cleared his throat.

“Long in these parts, ma’am?” he asked.

“Not very long,” said Lady Dalrymple, with her usual bland good-nature.

“A nice place this,” continued the Baron.

“Yes.”

“And do you keep your health, ma’am?” inquired the Baron, with some anxiety.

“Thanks,” said Lady Dalrymple; which observation set the Baron’s mind wondering what she meant by that.