Count Bunker [6]
nearer and nearer to the ancient barony of Tulliwuddle (created 1475 in the peerage of Scotland), until this year he had actually succeeded to it. But after his first delight in this piece of good fortune had subsided he began to realize in himself two notable deficiencies very clearly, the lack of money, and more vaguely, the want of any preparation for filling the shoes of a stately courtier and famous Highland chieftain. He would often, and with considerable feeling, declare that any ordinary peer he could easily have become, but that being old Tulliwuddle's heir, by Gad! he didn't half like the job.
At present he was being tolerated or befriended by a small circle of acquaintances, and rapidly becoming a familiar figure to three or four tailors and half a dozen door-keepers at the stage entrances to divers Metropolitan theatres. In the circle of acquaintances, the humorous sagacity of Essington struck him as the most astonishing thing he had ever known. He felt, in fact, much like a village youth watching his first conjuring performance, and while the whim lasted (a period which Essington put down as probably six weeks) he would have gone the length of paying a bill or ordering a tie on his recommendation alone.
To-night the distinguished appearance and genial conversation of Essington's friend impressed him more than ever with the advantages of knowing so remarkable a personage. A second bottle succeeded the first, and a third the second, the cordiality of the dinner growing all the while, till at last his lordship had laid aside the last traces of his national suspicion of even the most charming strangers.
"I say, Essington," he said, "I had meant to tell you about a devilish delicate dilemma I'm in. I want your advice."
"You have it, interrupted his host. "Give her a five-pound note, see that she burns your letters, and introduce her to another fellow."
"But--er--that wasn't the thing----"
"Tell him you'll pay in six months, and order another pair of trousers," said Essington, briskly as ever.
"But, I say, it wasn't that----"
"My dear Tulliwuddle, I never give racing tips."
"Hang it!"
"What is the matter?"
Tulliwuddle glanced at the Baron.
"I don't know whether the Baron would be interested----"
"Immensely, my goot Tollyvoddle! Supremely! hugely! I could be interested to-night in a museum!"
"The Baron's past life makes him a peculiarly catholic judge of indiscretions," said Essington.
Thus reassured, Tulliwuddle began--
"You know I've an aunt who takes an interest in me-- wants me to collar an heiress and that sort of thing. Well, she has more or less arranged a marriage for me."
"Fill your glasses, gentlemen!" cried Essington.
"Hoch, hoch!" roared the Baron.
"But, I say, wait a minute! That's only the beginning. I don't know the girl--and she doesn't know me."
He said the last words in a peculiarly significant tone.
"Do you wish me to introduce you?"
"Oh, hang it! Be serious, Essington. The point is--will she marry me if she does know me?"
"Himmel! Yes, certainly!" cried the Baron.
"Who is she?" asked their host, more seriously.
"Her father is Darius P. Maddison, the American Silver King."
The other two could not withhold an exclamation.
"He has only two children, a son and a daughter, and he wants to marry his daughter to an English peer--or a Scotch, it's all the same. My aunt knows 'em pretty well, and she has recommended me."
"An excellent selection," commented his host.
"But the trouble is, they want rather a high-class peer. Old Maddison is deuced particular, and I believe the girl is even worse."
"What are the qualifications desired?"
"Oh, he's got to be ambitious, and a promising young man--and elevated tastes--and all that kind of nonsense."
"But you can be all zat if you try!" said the Baron eagerly. "Go to Germany and get trained. I did vork twelve hours a day for ten years to be vat I am."
"I'm different," replied the young peer gloomily. "Nobody ever trained me. Old Tulliwuddle might
At present he was being tolerated or befriended by a small circle of acquaintances, and rapidly becoming a familiar figure to three or four tailors and half a dozen door-keepers at the stage entrances to divers Metropolitan theatres. In the circle of acquaintances, the humorous sagacity of Essington struck him as the most astonishing thing he had ever known. He felt, in fact, much like a village youth watching his first conjuring performance, and while the whim lasted (a period which Essington put down as probably six weeks) he would have gone the length of paying a bill or ordering a tie on his recommendation alone.
To-night the distinguished appearance and genial conversation of Essington's friend impressed him more than ever with the advantages of knowing so remarkable a personage. A second bottle succeeded the first, and a third the second, the cordiality of the dinner growing all the while, till at last his lordship had laid aside the last traces of his national suspicion of even the most charming strangers.
"I say, Essington," he said, "I had meant to tell you about a devilish delicate dilemma I'm in. I want your advice."
"You have it, interrupted his host. "Give her a five-pound note, see that she burns your letters, and introduce her to another fellow."
"But--er--that wasn't the thing----"
"Tell him you'll pay in six months, and order another pair of trousers," said Essington, briskly as ever.
"But, I say, it wasn't that----"
"My dear Tulliwuddle, I never give racing tips."
"Hang it!"
"What is the matter?"
Tulliwuddle glanced at the Baron.
"I don't know whether the Baron would be interested----"
"Immensely, my goot Tollyvoddle! Supremely! hugely! I could be interested to-night in a museum!"
"The Baron's past life makes him a peculiarly catholic judge of indiscretions," said Essington.
Thus reassured, Tulliwuddle began--
"You know I've an aunt who takes an interest in me-- wants me to collar an heiress and that sort of thing. Well, she has more or less arranged a marriage for me."
"Fill your glasses, gentlemen!" cried Essington.
"Hoch, hoch!" roared the Baron.
"But, I say, wait a minute! That's only the beginning. I don't know the girl--and she doesn't know me."
He said the last words in a peculiarly significant tone.
"Do you wish me to introduce you?"
"Oh, hang it! Be serious, Essington. The point is--will she marry me if she does know me?"
"Himmel! Yes, certainly!" cried the Baron.
"Who is she?" asked their host, more seriously.
"Her father is Darius P. Maddison, the American Silver King."
The other two could not withhold an exclamation.
"He has only two children, a son and a daughter, and he wants to marry his daughter to an English peer--or a Scotch, it's all the same. My aunt knows 'em pretty well, and she has recommended me."
"An excellent selection," commented his host.
"But the trouble is, they want rather a high-class peer. Old Maddison is deuced particular, and I believe the girl is even worse."
"What are the qualifications desired?"
"Oh, he's got to be ambitious, and a promising young man--and elevated tastes--and all that kind of nonsense."
"But you can be all zat if you try!" said the Baron eagerly. "Go to Germany and get trained. I did vork twelve hours a day for ten years to be vat I am."
"I'm different," replied the young peer gloomily. "Nobody ever trained me. Old Tulliwuddle might