CHAPTER XXV.

We were on our way from Basle to Heidelberg, I remember, and Mr. Malt was commenting sarcastically upon Swiss resources for naming towns as exemplified in “Neuhausen.”  “There’s a lot about this country,” said Mr. Malt, “that reminds you of the world as it appeared about the time you built it for yourself every day with blocks, and made it lively with animals out of your Noah’s Ark.  I can’t say what it is, but that’s a sample of it—­’New Houses!’ What a baby baa-lamb name for a town!  It would settle the municipality in our part of the world—­any railway would make a circuit of fifty miles to avoid it!”

Mr. Mafferton and I had paused in our conversation, and these remarks reached us in full.  They gave him the opportunity of bending a sympathetic glance upon me and saying, “How graphic your countrymen are, Miss Wick.”  Cologne was only three days off, but Mr. Mafferton never departed from the proprieties in his form of address.  He was in that respect quite the most docile and respectful person I have ever found it necessary to keep in suspense.

I said they were not all as pictorial as Mr. Malt, and noticed that his eye was wandering.  It had wandered to Miss Callis, who was snubbing the Count, and looking wonderfully well.  I don’t know whether I have mentioned that she had blue eyes and black hair, but her occupation, of course, would be becoming to anybody.

“And for the matter of that your country-women, too,” said Mr. Mafferton.  “I am much gratified to have the opportunity of making the acquaintance of another of them in this unexpected way.  I find your friend, Miss Callis, a charming creature.”

She wasn’t my friend, but the moment did not seem opportune for saying so.

“I saw you talking a good deal to her yesterday,” I said.

Mr. Mafferton twisted his moustache with a look of guilty satisfaction which I found hard to bear.  “Must I cry Peccavi?” he said.  “You see you were so—­er—­preoccupied.  You said you would rather hear about the growth of the Swiss Confederacy and its relation to the Helvetia of the Ancients another day.”

“That was quite true,” I said indignantly.

“I found Miss Callis anxious to be informed without delay,” said Mr. Mafferton, with a slightly rebuking accent.  “She has a very open mind,” he went on musingly.

“Oh, wonderfully,” I said.

“And a highly retentive memory.  It seems she was shown over our place in Surrey last summer.  She described it to me in the most perfect detail.  She must be very observant.”

“She’s as observant as ever she can be,” I remarked.  “I expect she could describe you in the most perfect detail too, if she tried.”  I sweetened this with an exterior smile, but I felt extremely rude inside.

“Oh, I fear I could not flatter myself—­but how interesting that would be!  One has always had a desire to know the impression one makes as a whole, so to speak, upon a fresh and unsophisticated young intelligence like that.”