His son displayed an equal enthusiasm, and the Count departed with an enhanced reputation and the lingering fragrance of a cocktail upon his tongue.

“Now I think we are in comparatively smooth water,” he said to himself as he whizzed back to the castle.

At the door he was received by the butler.

“Mr. Gallosh is waiting for you in the library, my lord,” said he, adding confidentially (since the Count had endeared himself to all), “He’s terrible impatient for to see your lordship.”

CHAPTER XXVI

Evidently Mr. Gallosh, while waiting for the Count’s return, had so worked up his wrath that it was ready to explode on a hair-trigger touch; and, as evidently, his guest’s extreme urbanity made it exceedingly difficult to carry out his threatening intentions.

“I want a word with you, Count.  I’ve been wanting a word with you all morning,” he began.

“Believe me, Mr. Gallosh, I appreciate the compliment.”

“Where were you?  I mean it was verra annoying not to find you when I wanted you.”

The merchant was so evidently divided between anxiety to blurt out his mind while it was yet hot from the making up, and desire not to affront a guest and a man of rank, that the Count could scarcely restrain a smile.

“It is equally annoying to myself.  I should have enjoyed a conversation with you at any hour since breakfast.”

“Umph,” replied his host.

“What can I do for you now?”

Mr. Gallosh looked at him steadfastly.

“Count Bunker,” said he, “I am only a plain man——­”

“The ladies, I assure you, are not of that opinion,” interposed the Count politely.

Mr. Gallosh seemed to him to receive this compliment with more suspicion than pleasure.

“I’m saying,” he repeated, “that I’m only a plain man of business, and you and your friend are what you’d call swells.”

“God forbid that I should!” the Count interjected fervently. " ‘Toffs,’ possibly—­but no matter, please continue.”

“Well, now, so long as his lordship likes to treat me and my family as kind of belonging to a different sphere, I’m well enough content.  I make no pretensions, Count, to be better than what I am.”

“I also, Mr. Gallosh, endeavor to affect a similar modesty.  It’s rather becoming, I think, to a fine-looking man.”

“It’s becoming to any kind of man that he should know his place.  But I was saying, I’d have been content if his lordship had been distant and polite and that kind of thing.  But was he?  You know yourself, Count, how he’s behaved!”

“Perfectly politely, I trust.”

“But he’s not been what you’d call distant, Count Bunker.  In fac’, the long and the short of it is just this—­what’s his intentions towards my Eva?”

“Is it Mrs. Gallosh who desires this information?”