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 ****** 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?"
"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?"
