“Six feet and half an inch.”

“That’s something more like!” said Ri; and his sister smiled her acquiescence.

“And does he weigh up to it?” she inquired.

“Fourteen, twelve, and three-quarters.”

“What’s that in pounds, Ri?  We don’t count people in stones in America.”

A tense frown, a nervous twitching of the lip, and in an instant the young financier produced the answer

“Two hundred and nine pounds all but four ounces.”

“Well,” said Eleanor, “it all depends on how he holds himself.  That’s a lot to carry for a young man.”

“He holds himself like one of his native pine-trees, Miss Maddison!”

She clapped her hands.

“Now I call that just a lovely metaphor, Count Bunker!” she cried.  “Oh, if he’s going to look like a pine, and walk like the pipers at the Torrydhulish gathering, and really be a chief like Fergus MacIvor or Roderick Dhu, I do believe I’ll actually fall in love with him!”

“Say, Count,” interposed Ri, “I guess we’ve heard he’s half German.”

“It was indeed in Germany that he learned his thorough grasp of politics, statesmanship, business, and finance, and acquired his lofty ambitions and indomitable perseverance.”

“He’ll do, Eleanor,” said the young man.  “That’s to say, if he is anything like the prospectus.”

His sister made no immediate reply.  She seemed to be musing—­and not unpleasantly.

At that moment a motor car passed the window.

“My!” exclaimed Eleanor, “I’d quite forgot!  That will be to take the Honorable Stanley to the station.  We must say good-by to him, I suppose”

She turned to the Count and added in explanation—­

“The last to apply was the Honorable Stanley Pilkington—­Lord Didcott’s heir, you know.  Oh, if you could see him, you’d realize what I’ve had to go through!”

Even as she spoke he was given the opportunity, for the door somewhat diffidently opened and an unhappy-looking young man came slowly into the room.  He was clearly to be classified among the round-shouldered ineligibles; being otherwise a tall and slender youth, with an amiable expression and a smoothly well-bred voice.

“I’ve come to say good-by, Miss Maddison,” he said, with a mournful air.  “I—­I’ve enjoyed my visit very much,” he added, as he timidly shook her hand.

“So glad you have, Mr. Pilkington,” she replied cordially.  “It has been a very great pleasure to entertain you.  Our friend Count Bunker—­Mr. Pilkington.”

The young man bowed with a look in his eye that clearly said—­

“The nest candidate, I perceive.”

Then having said good-by to Ri, the Count heard him murmur to Eleanor—­

“Couldn’t you—­er—­couldn’t you just manage to see me of?”

“With very great pleasure!” she replied in a hearty voice that seemed curiously enough rather to damp than cheer his drooping spirits.