e deuce is in these people beginning with B!" he laughed. "They seem to
do things without trying."

He pressed her hand, raised his hat, and started back to the town. She, on
her part, lingered to let him get a clear start of her, and her blue eyes
looked as though a breeze had blown across and ruffled them.

Mr Bunker had reached the esplanade, and was sauntering easily back
towards the hotel, looking at the people and smiling now and then to
himself, when he observed with considerable astonishment two familiar
figures strolling towards him. They were none other than the Baron and the
Countess, engaged in animated conversation, and apparently on the very
best terms with each other. At the sight of him the Baron beamed joyfully.

"Aha, Bonker, so you haf returned!" he cried. "In ze meanvile I haf had
vun great good fortune. Let me present my friend Mr Bonker, ze Lady
Grillyer."

The Countess bowed most graciously, and raising a pair of
tortoise-shell-rimmed eye-glasses mounted on a stem of the same material,
looked at Mr Bunker through these with a by no means disapproving glance.

At first sight it was evident that Lady Alicia must "take after" her noble
father. The Countess was aquiline of nose, large of person, and emphatic
in her voice and manner.

"You are the 'showman,' Mr Bunker, are you not?" she said, with a smile
for which many of her acquaintances would have given a tolerable
percentage of their incomes.

"It seems," replied Mr Bunker, smiling back agreeably, "that the Baron is
now the showman, and I must congratulate him on his first venture."

For an instant the Countess seemed a trifle taken aback. It was a
considerable number of years since she had been addressed in precisely
this strain, and in fact at no time had her admirers ventured quite so
dashingly to the attack. But there was something entirely irresistible in
Mr Bunker's manner, partly perhaps because he never made the mistake of
heeding a first rebuff. The Countess coughed, then smiled a little again,
and said to the Baron, "You didn't tell me that your showman supplied the
little speeches as well."

"I could not know it; zere has not before been ze reason for a pretty
speech," responded the Baron, gallantly.

If Lady Grillyer had been anybody else, one would have said that she
actually giggled. Certainly a little wave of scandalised satisfaction
rippled all over her.

"Oh, really!" she cried, "I don't know which of you is the worst