Count Bunker [56]
Believe me, yours very sincerely, "JULIA WALLINGFORD."
"P.S.--If it would upset your arrangements to come only for the day, Miss Minchell 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 passing. 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 passed.
"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.
"I find, sir, that his darned my-lordship--and be damned to his titles----"
"Mr. Maddison!" expostulated the Count gently.
"I find, Count, I find that Lord Tulliwuddle, under pretext of paying my Eleanor a compliment, has provided an entertainment--a musical and athletic entertainment-- for another woman!"
The Count sprang to his feet.
"Impossible!" he cried.
"It is true!"
"Name her!"
"She answers, sir, to the plebeian cognomen of Gallosh."
"A nobody!" sneered Ri.
"In trade!" added his father scornfully.
Had the occasion been more propitious, the Count could scarcely have refrained from commenting upon this remarkably republican criticism;
"P.S.--If it would upset your arrangements to come only for the day, Miss Minchell 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 passing. 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 passed.
"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.
"I find, sir, that his darned my-lordship--and be damned to his titles----"
"Mr. Maddison!" expostulated the Count gently.
"I find, Count, I find that Lord Tulliwuddle, under pretext of paying my Eleanor a compliment, has provided an entertainment--a musical and athletic entertainment-- for another woman!"
The Count sprang to his feet.
"Impossible!" he cried.
"It is true!"
"Name her!"
"She answers, sir, to the plebeian cognomen of Gallosh."
"A nobody!" sneered Ri.
"In trade!" added his father scornfully.
Had the occasion been more propitious, the Count could scarcely have refrained from commenting upon this remarkably republican criticism;