Count Bunker

by J. Storer Clouston

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Count Bunker could not but observe that Miss Wallingford's eyesexpressed more surprise than pleasure when he entered the drawing-room,and he was confirmed in his resolution to let his true character appearbut gradually. Afterwards he could not congratulate himself too heartilyon this prudent decision.

  "I fear," he said, "that I am late." (It was in fact half-past six bynow.) "I have been searching through my wardrobe to find some nethergarments at all appropriate to the overall--if I may so term it--whichyou were kind enough to lay out for me. But I found mustard of thatparticular shade so hard to match that I finally decided in favor ofthis more conventional habit. I trust you don't mind?"

  Both the ladies, though evidently disappointed, excused him with muchkindness, and Miss Minchell alluded directly to his blue lapels asevidence that even now he held himself somewhat aloof from strictorthodoxy.

  "May we see any allusion to your uncle, the late Count Bunker, in hischoice of color?" she asked in a reverently hushed voice.

  "Yes," replied the Count readily; "my aunt's stockings were of thathue."

  From the startled glances of the two ladies it became plain that thelate Count Bunker had died a bachelor.

  "My other aunt," he exclaimed unabashed; yet nevertheless it was withdecided pleasure that he heard dinner announced immediately afterwards.

  "They seem to know something about my uncle," he said to himself. "Imust glean a few particulars too."

  A horrible fear lest his namesake might have dined solely upon herbs,and himself be expected to follow his example, was pleasantly dissipatedby a glance at the menu; but he confessed to a sinking of his heart whenhe observed merely a tumbler beside his own plate and a large brown jugbefore him.

  "Good heavens!" he thought, "do they imagine an Austrian count isnecessarily a beer drinker?"

  With a sigh he could not quite smother, he began to pour the contentsinto his glass, and then set it down abruptly, emitting a startledexclamation.

  "What is the matter?" cried Julia sympathetically.

  Her eyes (he was embarrassed to note) followed his every movement like adog's, and her apprehension clearly was extreme.

  "This seems to be water," smiled the Count, with an effort to carry offtheir error as pleasantly for them as possible.

  "Isn't it good water?" asked Julia with an air of concern.

  It was the Count's turn to open his eyes.

  "You have concluded then that I am a teetotaler?"

  "Of course, we know you are!"

  "If we may judge by your prefaces," smiled Miss Minchell.

  The Count began to realize the hazards that beset him; but his spiritstoutly rose to meet the shock of the occasion.

  "There is no use in attempting to conceal my idiosyncrasies, I see,"he answered. "But to-night, will you forgive me if I break throughthe cardinal rule of my life and ask you for a little stimulant? Mydoctor----"

  "I see!" cried Miss Wallingford compassionately. "Of course, one can'tdispute a doctor's orders. What would you like?"

  "Oh, anything you have. He did recommend champagne--if it was good; butanything will do."

  "A bottle of the VERY best champagne, Mackenzie!"

  The dinner now became an entirely satisfactory meal. Inspired by hischampagne and by the success of his audacity in so easily surmountingall difficulties, the Count delighted his hostesses by the vivacity andoriginality of his conversation. On the one hand, he chose topics nottoo flippant in themselves and treated them with a becomingly seriousair; on the other, he carefully steered the talk away from theneighborhood of his uncle.

  "By the time I fetch out my banjo they'll have forgotten all about him,"he said to himself complacently.

  Knowing well the importance of the individual factor in all thecontingencies of life, he set himself, in the meanwhile, to study withsome attention the two ladies beside him. Miss Minchell he had alreadysummarized as an agreeable nonentity, and this impression was onlyconfirmed on better acquaintance. It was quite evident, he perceived,that she was dragged practically unresisting in Miss Wallingford'swake--even to the length of abetting the visit of an unknown bachelor inthe absence of Miss Wallingford's parent.

  As for Julia, he decided that she was even better-looking and moreagreeable than he had at first imagined; though, having the gayest ofhearts himself, he was a trifle disconcerted to observe the uniformseriousness of her ideas. How one could reconcile her ecstaticenthusiasm for the ideal with her evident devotion to himself he was ata loss to conceive.

  "However, we will investigate that later," he thought.

  But first came a more urgent question: Had his uncle and his "prefaces"committed him to forswear tobacco? He resolved to take the bull by thehorns.

  "I hope you will not be scandalized to learn that I have acquired thepernicious habit of smoking?" he said as they rose from the table.

  "I told you he was smoking a cigar at Hechnahoul!" cried Miss Minchellwith an air of triumph.

  "I thought you were mistaken," said Julia, and the Count could see thathe had slipped a little from his pedestal.

  This must not be permitted; yet he must smoke.

  "Of course I don't smoke REAL tobacco!" he exclaimed.

  "Oh, in that case," cried Julia, "certainly then you may smoke in thedrawing-room. What is it you use?"

  "A kind of herb that subdues the appetites, Miss Wallingford."

  He could see at a glance that he was more firmly on his pedestal thanever.