In the eye of the heiress, as in her father’s, might be noted a shade of surprise at finding two gentlemen instead of one.  But though the Count instantly perceived his superfluity, and though it had been his greatest ambition throughout his life to add no shade to the dullness with which he frequently complained that life was overburdened, yet his sense of obligation to his friend was so strong that he preferred to bore rather than desert.  As the only compensation he could offer, he assumed the most retiring look of which his mobile features were capable, and pretended to examine one of the tables of curios.

“Lord Tulliwuddle, I congratulate you on the very happy impression you have made!” began Eleanor with the most delightful frankness.

But his lordship had learned to fear the Americans, even bearing compliments.

“So?” he answered stolidly.

“Indeed you have!  Ri is just wild about your cleverness.”

“Zat is kind of him.”

“He declares you are quite an authority on European politics.  Now you will be able to tell me——­”

“Ach, no!  I shall not to-day, please!” interrupted the Baron hurriedly.

The heiress seemed disconcerted.

“Oh, not if you’d rather not, Lord Tulliwuddle.”

“Not to-day.”

“Well!”

She turned with a shrug and cast her eyes upon the wall.

“How do you like this picture?  It’s my latest toy.  I call it just sweet!”

He cautiously examined the painting.

“It is vary pretty.”

“Do you know Romney’s work?”

The Baron shrank back.

“Not again to-day, please!”

Miss Maddison opened her handsome eyes to their widest.

“My word!” she cried.  “If these are Highland manners, Lord Tulliwuddle!”

In extreme confusion the Baron stammered—­

“I beg your pardon!  Forgif me—­but—­ach, not zose questions, please!”

Relenting a little, she inquired

“What may I ask you, then?  Do tell me!  You see I want just to know all about you.”

With an affrighted gesture the Baron turned to his friend.

“Bonker,” said he, “she does vant to know yet more about me!  Vill you please to tell her.”

The Count looked up from the curios with an expression so bland that the air began to clear even before he spoke.

“Miss Maddison, I must explain that my friend’s proud Highland spirit has been a little disturbed by some inquiries, made in all good faith by your father.  No offence, I am certain, was intended; erroneous information—­a little hastiness in jumping to conclusions —­a sensitive nature wounded by the least insinuation—­ such were the unfortunate causes of Tulliwuddle’s excusable reticence.  Believe me, if you knew all, your opinion of him would alter very, very considerably!”

The perfectly accurate peroration to this statement produced an immediate effect.