ion, and then in an eager voice asked--

"You haf not ze kilt in zat hat-box?"

Unfortunately, however, the kilt was in the van.

Now the journey, propitiously begun, became more exhilarating, more
exciting with each mile flung by. The Baron, egged on by his friend's
high spirits and his own imagination to anticipate pleasure upon
pleasure, watched with rapture the summer landscape whiz past the
windows. Through the flat midlands of England they sped; field after
field, hedgerow after hedgerow, trees by the dozen, by the hundred,
by the thousand, spinning by in one continuous green vista. Red brick
towns, sluggish rivers, thatched villages and ancient churches dark with
yews, the shining web of junctions, and a whisking glimpse of wayside
stations leaped towards them, past them, and leagues away behind. But
swiftly as they sped, it was all too slowly for the fresh-created Lord
Tulliwuddle.

"Are we not nearly to Scotland yet?" he inquired some fifty times.

"'My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the dears!'" hummed the
abdicated nobleman, whose hilarity had actually increased (if that were
possible) since his descent into the herd again.

All the travellers' familiar landmarks were hailed by the gleeful
diplomatist with encouraging comments.

"Ach, look! Beauteeful view! How quickly it is gone! Hurray! Ve must be
nearly to Scotland."

A panegyric on the rough sky-line of the north country fells was
interrupted by the entrance of the dining-car attendant. Learning that
they would dine, he politely inquired in what names he should engage
their seats. Then, for an instant, a horrible confusion nearly overcame
the Baron. He--a von Blitzenberg--to give a false name! His color rose,
he stammered, and only in the nick of time caught his companion's eye.

"Ze Lord Tollyvoddle," he announced, with an effort as heroic as any of
his ancestors' most warlike enterprises.

Too impressed to inquire how this remarkable title should be spelled,
the man turned to the other distinguished-looking passenger.

"Bunker," said that gentleman, with smiling assurance.

The man went out.

"Now are ve named!" cried the Baron, his courage rising the higher for
the shock it had sustained. "And you vunce more vill be Bonker? Goot!"

"That satisfies you?"

The Baron hesitated.

"My dear friend, I have a splendid idea! Do you know I did disgover zere
used to be a nobleman in Austria really called Count Bonker? He vas a
famous man;