“It is.  And myself too; oh, I’m not behindhand where the reputation of my daughters is concerned!”

“Mrs. G. has screwed him up to this,” said the Count to himself.  Aloud, he asked with his blandest air—­

“Was not Lord Tulliwuddle available himself?”

“No; he’s gone out.”

“Alone?”

“No, not alone.”

“In brief, with Miss Gallosh?”

“Quite so; and what’ll he be saying to her?”

“He is a man of such varied information that it’s hard to guess.”

“From all I hear, there’s not been much variety so far,” said Mr. Gallosh drily.

“Dear me!” observed the Count.

His host looked at him for a few moments.

“Well?” he demanded at length.

“Pardon me if I am stupid, but what comment do you expect me to make?”

“Well, you see, we all know quite well you’re more in his lordship’s confidence than any one else in the house, and I’d take it as a favor if you’d just give me your honest opinion.  Is he just playing himself—­or what?”

The worthy Mr. Gallosh was so evidently sincere, and looked at him with such an appealing eye, that the Count found the framing of a suitable reply the hardest task that had yet been set him.

“Mr. Gallosh, if I were in Tulliwuddle’s shoes I can only say that I should consider myself a highly fortunate individual; and I do sincerely believe that that is his own conviction also.”

“You think so?”

“I do indeed.”

Though sensibly relieved, Mr. Gallosh still felt vaguely conscious that if he attempted to repeat this statement for the satisfaction of his wife, he would find it hard to make it sound altogether as reassuring as when accompanied by the Count’s sympathetic voice.  He ruminated for a minute, and then suddenly recalled what the Count’s evasive answers and sympathetic assurances had driven from his mind.  Yet it was, in fact, the chief occasion of concern.

“Do you know, Count Bunker, what his lordship has gone and done?”

“Should one inquire too specifically?” smiled the Count; but Mr. Gallosh remained unmoved.

“You can bear me witness that he told us he was giving this gathering in my Eva’s honor?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, he went and told Miss Maddison it was for her sake?”

“Incredible!”

“It’s a fact!”

“I refuse to believe my friend guilty of such perfidy!  Who told you this?”

“The Maddisons themselves.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Count, as heartily as he had laughed at Lincoln Lodge; “don’t you know these Americans sometimes draw the long bow?”

“You mean to say you don’t believe they told the truth?”

“My dear Mr. Gallosh, I would answer you in the oft-quoted words of Horace—­’Arma virumque cano.’  The philosophy of a solar system is some times compressed within an eggshell.  Say nothing and see!”