sorry for whichever lady is
not chosen to cut the cake."

He inquired for his friend, and was somewhat relieved to learn that
though he had gone out on the loch with Miss Gallosh, they had been
accompanied by her brothers and sisters.

"We still have half an hour before dressing," he said. "I shall stroll
down and meet them."

His creditable anxiety returned when, upon the path to the loch shore,
he met the two Masters and the two younger Misses Gallosh returning
without their sister.

"Been in different boats, have you?" said he, after they had explained
this curious circumstance; "well, I hope you all had a good sail."

To himself he uttered a less philosophical comment, and quickened his
stride perceptibly. He reached the shore, but far or near was never a
sign of boat upon the waters.

"Have they gone down!" he thought.

Just then he became aware of a sound arising from beneath the wooded
bank a short distance away. It was evidently intended to be muffled,
but the Baron's lungs were powerful, and there was no mistaking his deep
voice as he sang--

"'My loff she's like a red, red rose
Zat's newly sprong in June!
My loff she's like a melody
Zat's sveetly blayed in tune!

Ach, how does he end?"

Before his charmer had time to prompt him, the Count raised his own
tolerably musical voice and replied--

"'And fare thee weel, my second string!
And fare thee weel awhile!
I won t come back again, my love,
For tis ower mony mile!

For an instant there followed a profound silence, and then the voice of
the Baron replied, with somewhat forced mirth--

"Vary goot, Bonker! Ha, ha! Vary goot!"

Meanwhile Bunker, without further delay, was pushing his way through a
tangle of shrubbery till in a moment he spied the boat moored beneath
the leafy bank, and although it was a capacious craft he observed that
its two occupants were both crowded into one end.

"I am sent to escort you back to dinner," he said blandly.

"Tell zem ve shall be back in three minutes," replied the Baron, making
a prodigious show of preparation for coming ashore.

"I am sorry to say that my orders were strictly to escort, not to herald
you," said the Count apologetically.

Fortifying himself against unpopularity by the consciousness that he was
doing his duty, this well-principled, even if spurious, nobleman paced
back towards the hou