st a bit of fiddle-de-dee," he informed his delighted family.
"Duncan Gallosh to be looking for bogles is pretty ridiculous--but oh, I
can't refuse to disoblige his lordship."

"I should think not, when he's done you the honor to invite you out
of all his friends!" said Mrs. Gallosh warmly. "Eva! do you hear the
compliment that's been paid your papa?"

Eva, their fair eldest daughter, came into the room at a run. She had
indeed heard (since the news was on every tongue), and impetuously she
flung her arms about her father's neck.

"Oh, papa, do him credit!" she cried; "it's like a story come true! What
a romantic thing to happen!"

"What a spirit!" her mother reflected proudly. "She is just the girl for
a chieftain's bride!"

That very night was chosen for the ceremony, and eleven o'clock found
them all assembled breathless in the drawing-room: all, save Lord
Tulliwuddle and his host.

"Will they have to wait for a whole hour?" asked Mrs. Gallosh in a low
voice.

Indeed they all spoke in subdued accents.

"I am told," replied the Count, "that the apparition never appears till
after midnight has struck. Any time between twelve and one he may be
expected."

"Think of the terrible suspense after twelve has passed!" whispered Eva.

The Count had thought of this.

"I advised Duncan to take his flask," said Mr. Rentoul, with a solemn
wink. "So he'll not be so badly off."

"Papa would never do such a thing to-night!" cried Eva.

"It's always a kind of precaution," said the sage.

Presently Count Bunker, who had been imparting the most terrific
particulars of former interviews with the Wraith to the younger
Galloshes, remarked that he must pass the time by overtaking some
pressing correspondence.

"You will forgive me, I hope, for shutting myself up for an hour or so,"
he said to his hostess. "I shall come back in time to learn the results
of the meeting."

And with the loss of his encouraging company a greater uneasiness fell
upon the party.

Meanwhile, in a vast cavern of darkness, lit only by the solitary
candle, the Baron and his host endeavored to maintain the sceptical
buoyancy with which they had set forth upon their adventure. But the
chilliness of the room (they had no fire, and it was a misty night with
a moaning wind), the inordinate quantity of odd-looking shadows, and
the profound silence, were immediately destructive to buoyancy and
ultimately trying to scepticism.

"I wish ze piper vould