ve some fon!"

A salvo of applause greeted this conclusion. At the Baron's impetuous
request the cigars were brought into the hall, and ladies and gentlemen
all trooped out together.

"I cannot vait till I have seen Miss Gallosh dance ze Highland reel," he
explained to her gratified mother; "she has promised me."

"But you must dance too, Lord Tulliwuddle," said ravishing Miss Gallosh.
"You know you said you would."

"A promise to a lady is a law," replied the Baron gallantly, adding in a
lower tone, "especially to so fair a lady!"

"It's a pity his lordship hadn't on his kilt," put in Mr. Gallosh
genially.

"By ze Gad, I vill put him on! Hoch! Ve vill have some fon!"

The Baron rushed from the hall, followed in a moment by his noble
friend. Bunker found him already wrapping many yards of tartan about his
waist.

"But, my dear fellow, you must take off your trousers," he expostulated.

Despite his glee, the Baron answered with something of the Blitzenberg
dignity--

"Ze bare leg I cannot show to-night--not to dance mit ze young ladies.
Ven I have practised, perhaps; but not now, Bonker."

Accordingly the portraits of four centuries of Tulliwuddles beheld
their representative appear in the very castle of Hechnahoul with his
trouser-legs capering beneath an ill-hung petticoat of tartan. And, to
make matters worse in their canvas eyes, his own shameless laugh rang
loudest in the mirth that greeted his entrance.

"Ze garb of Gaul!" he announced, shaking with hilarity. "Gom, Bonker,
dance mit me ze Highland fling!"

The first night of Lord Tulliwuddle's visit to his ancestral halls is
still remembered among his native hills. The Count also, his mind now
rapturously at ease, performed prodigies. They danced together what they
were pleased to call the latest thing in London, sang a duet, waltzed
with the younger ladies, till hardly a head was left unturned, and,
in short, sent away the ministers and their ladies, the five Miss
Cameron-Campbells, the reading-party, and particularly the factor, with
a new conception of a Highland chief. As for the house-party, they felt
that they were fortunate beyond the lot of most ordinary mortals.

CHAPTER X

The Baron sat among his heirlooms, laboriously disengaging himself from
his kilt. Fitfully throughout this process he would warble snatches of
an air which Miss Gallosh had sung.

"Whae vould not dee for Sharlie?" he trolled, "Ze yong chevalier!"

"Then you don