o far," said Mr.
Gallosh drily.

"Dear me!" observed the Count.

His host looked at him for a few moments.

"Well?" he demanded at length.

"Pardon me if I am stupid, but what comment do you expect me to make?"

"Well, you see, we all know quite well you're more in his lordship's
confidence than any one else in the house, and I'd take it as a favor if
you'd just give me your honest opinion. Is he just playing himself--or
what?"

The worthy Mr. Gallosh was so evidently sincere, and looked at him with
such an appealing eye, that the Count found the framing of a suitable
reply the hardest task that had yet been set him.

"Mr. Gallosh, if I were in Tulliwuddle's shoes I can only say that I
should consider myself a highly fortunate individual; and I do sincerely
believe that that is his own conviction also."

"You think so?"

"I do indeed."

Though sensibly relieved, Mr. Gallosh still felt vaguely conscious that
if he attempted to repeat this statement for the satisfaction of his
wife, he would find it hard to make it sound altogether as reassuring
as when accompanied by the Count's sympathetic voice. He ruminated for a
minute, and then suddenly recalled what the Count's evasive answers and
sympathetic assurances had driven from his mind. Yet it was, in fact,
the chief occasion of concern.

"Do you know, Count Bunker, what his lordship has gone and done?"

"Should one inquire too specifically?" smiled the Count; but Mr. Gallosh
remained unmoved.

"You can bear me witness that he told us he was giving this gathering in
my Eva's honor?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, he went and told Miss Maddison it was for her sake?"

"Incredible!"

"It's a fact!"

"I refuse to believe my friend guilty of such perfidy! Who told you
this?"

"The Maddisons themselves."

"Ha, ha!" laughed the Count, as heartily as he had laughed at Lincoln
Lodge; "don't you know these Americans sometimes draw the long bow?"

"You mean to say you don't believe they told the truth?"

"My dear Mr. Gallosh, I would answer you in the oft-quoted words of
Horace--'Arma virumque cano.' The philosophy of a solar system is some
times compressed within an eggshell. Say nothing and see!"

He shook his host heartily by the hand as he spoke, and Mr. Gallosh,
to his subsequent perplexity, found the interview apparently at a
satisfactory conclusion.

"And now," said the Count to himself, "'Bolt!' is the word."

As he set about his packing in the hal