A similar display of address on the part of Count Bunker resulted in the Baron's finding himself some ten minutes later alone with Miss Maddison in her sanctuary. But, to his great surprise, he was greeted with none of the encouraging cordiality that had so charmed him yesterday. The lady was brief in her responses, critical in her tone, and evidently disposed to quarrel with her admirer on some ground at present entirely mysterious. Indeed, so discouraging was she that at length he exclaimed—
“Tell me, Miss Maddison—I should not have gom to-day? You did not vish to see me. Eh?”
“I certainly was perfectly comfortable without you, Lord Tulliwuddle,” said the heiress tartly.
“Shall I go avay?”
“You have come here entirely for your own pleasure; and the moment you begin to feel tired there is nothing to hinder you going home again.”
“You vere more kind to me yesterday,” said the Baron sadly.
“I did not learn till after you had gone how much I was to blame for keeping you so long away from your friends. Please do not think I shall repeat the offence.”
There was an accent on the word “friends” that enlightened the bewildered nobleman, even though quickness in taking a hint was not his most conspicuous attribute. That the voice of gossip had reached the fair American was only too evident; but though considerably annoyed, he could not help feeling at the same time flattered to see the concern he was able to inspire.
“My friends!” said he with amorous artfulness.
“Do you mean Count Bunker? He is ze only FRIEND I have here mit me.”