Count Bunker Part 32
No one possessed in a higher degree than the Count the nice art of erecting a whole conversation upon the foundation of the lightest phrase. He contrived a reply to the lady's answer, was able to put the most natural question next, to follow that with a happy stroke of wit, and within three minutes to make it seem the most obvious thing in the world that he should be saying
"I am sure that Lord Tulliwuddle will never forgive me if I fail to learn the names of any visitors who have honored him to-day."
"Mine," said the girl, her color rising slightly, but her glance as kind as ever, "is Julia Wallingford. This is my friend Miss Minch.e.l.l."
The Count bowed.
"And may I introduce myself as a friend of Tulliwuddle's, answering to the name of Count Bunker."
Again Miss Wallingford's color rose. In a low and ardent voice she began
"I am so glad to meet you! Your name is already----"
But at that instant, when the Count was bending forward to catch the words and the lady bending down to utter them, a hand grasped him by the sleeve, and the Baron's voice exclaimed,
"Come, Bonker, quickly here to help me!"
He would fain have presented his lordship to the ladies, but the Baron was too hurried to pause, and with a parting bow he was reluctantly borne off to a.s.sist his friend out of his latest dilemma.
"Pooh, my dear Baron!" he cried, when the situation was explained to him; "you couldn't have done more damage to their hearts if you had hurled your hammer at them! A touch of jealousy was all that was needed to complete your conquests. But for me you have spoiled the most promising affair imaginable. There goes their carriage trotting down the drive! And I shall probably never know whether my name was already in her heart or in her prayers. Those are the two chief receptacles for gentlemen's names, I believe--aren't they, Baron?"
On his advice the rival families were left to the soothing influences of a good dinner and a night's sleep, and he found himself free to ponder over his interrupted adventure.
"Undoubtedly one feels all the better for a little appreciation," he reflected complacently. "I wonder if it was my trews that bowled her over?"
CHAPTER XXV
The Count next morning consumed a solitary breakfast, his n.o.ble friend having risen some hours previously and gone for an early walk upon the hill. But he was far from feeling any trace of boredom, since an open letter beside his plate appeared to provide him with an ample fund of pleasant and entertaining reflections.
"I have not withered yet," he said to himself. "Here is proof positive that some blossom, some aroma remains!"
The precise terms of this encouraging epistle were these:
"THE LASH, near NETHERBRIG.
"Tuesday night.
"DEAR COUNT BUNKER,--Forgive what must seem to you INCREDIBLE boldness (!), and do not think worse of me than I deserve. It seems such a pity that you should be so near and yet that I should lose this chance of gratifying my great desire. If you knew how I prized the name of Bunker you would understand; but no doubt I am only one among many, and you do understand better than I can explain.
"My father is away from home, and the WORLD dictates prudence; but I know your views on conventionality are those I too have learned to share, so will you come and see me before you leave Scotland?
"With kindest regards and in great haste because I want you to get this to-morrow morning. Believe me, yours very sincerely,
"JULIA WALLINGFORD."
"P.S.--If it would upset your arrangements to come only for the day, Miss Minch.e.l.l agrees with me that we could easily put you up.--J. W."
"By Jingo!" mused the Count, "that's what I call a sporting offer. Her father away from home, and Count Bunker understanding better than she can explain! Gad, it's my duty to go!"
But besides the engaging cordiality of Miss Wallingford's invitation, there was something about the letter that puzzled almost as much as it cheered him.
"She prizes the name of Bunker, does she? Never struck me it was very ornamental; and in any case the compliment seems a trifle stretched.
But, hang it! this is looking a gift-horse in the mouth. Such ardor deserves to be embraced, not dissected."
He swiftly debated how best to gratify the lady. Last night it had been his own counsel, and likewise the Baron's desire, to leave by the night mail that very evening, with their laurels still unfaded and blessings heaped upon their heads. Why not make his next stage The Lash?
"Hang it, the Baron has had such a good innings that he can scarcely grudge me a short knock," he said to himself. "He can wait for me at Perth or somewhere."
And, ringing the bell, he wrote and promptly despatched this brief telegram:
"Delighted. Shall spend to-night in pa.s.sing. Bunker."
Hardly was this point settled when the footman re-entered to inform him that Mr. Maddison's motor car was at the door waiting to convey him without delay to Lincoln Lodge. Accompanying this announcement came the Silver King's card bearing the words, "Please come and see me at once."
The Count stroked his chin, and lit a cigarette.
"There is something fresh in the wind," thought he.
In the course of his forty-miles-an-hour rush through the odors of pine woods, he had time to come to a pretty correct conclusion regarding the business before him, and was thus enabled to adopt the mien most suitable to the contingency when he found himself ushered into the presence of the millionaire and his son. The set look upon their faces, the ceremonious manner of their greeting, and the low buzzing of the phonograph, audible above the tinkle of a musical box ingeniously intended to drown it, confirmed his guess even before a word had pa.s.sed.
"Be seated, Count," said the Silver King; and the Count sat.
"Now, sir," he continued, "I have sent for you, owing, sir, to the high opinion I have formed of your intelligence and business capabilities."
The Count bowed profoundly.
"Yes, sir, I believe, and my son believes, you to be a white man, even though you are a Count."
"That is so," said Ri.
"Now, sir, you must be aware--in fact, you ARE aware--of the matrimonial project once entertained between my daughter and Lord Tulliwuddle."
"Once!" exclaimed the Count in protest.
"ONCE!" echoed Ri in his deepest voice.
"Hish, Ri! Let your poppa do the talking this time," said the millionaire sternly, though with an indulgent eye.
"But--er--ONCE?" repeated the Count, as if bewildered by the past tense implied; though to himself he murmured--"I knew it!"
"When I gave my sanction to Lord Tulliwuddle's proposition, I did so under the impression that I was doing a deal with a man, sir, of integrity and honor. But what do I find?"
"Yes, what?" thundered Ri.