In extreme confusion the Baron stammered—
“I beg your pardon! Forgif me—but—ach, not zose questions, please!”
Relenting a little, she inquired
“What may I ask you, then? Do tell me! You see I want just to know all about you.”
With an affrighted gesture the Baron turned to his friend.
“Bonker,” said he, “she does vant to know yet more about me! Vill you please to tell her.”
The Count looked up from the curios with an expression so bland that the air began to clear even before he spoke.
“Miss Maddison, I must explain that my friend's proud Highland spirit has been a little disturbed by some inquiries, made in all good faith by your father. No offence, I am certain, was intended; erroneous information—a little hastiness in jumping to conclusions—a sensitive nature wounded by the least insinuation—such were the unfortunate causes of Tulliwuddle's excusable reticence. Believe me, if you knew all, your opinion of him would alter very, very considerably!”
The perfectly accurate peroration to this statement produced an immediate effect.
“What a shame!” cried Eleanor, her eyes sparkling brightly. “Lord Tulliwuddle, I am so sorry!”