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Count Bunker!" gasped the Baroness; and without stopping to debate the matter again, she rushed into her mother's arms, and there sobbed out the strange story of her second letter and the two Lord Tulliwuddles.

"It is known as the Wraith of the Tulliwuddles. The heir must interview it within a week of coming to the Castle." "Vere most I see him?" "In the armory, at midnight. You bring one friend, one candle, and wear a bonnet with one eagle's feather in it. You enter at eleven and wait for an hour and, by the way, neither of you must speak above a whisper." "Pooh! Jost hombog!" said the Baron valiantly.

"Oh, what does it mean?" she cried. "I came to you because you know all about the Tulliwuddles. Where is Lord Tulliwuddle now?" "I am not acquainted with the present peer," he ansevered meditatively. "In fact, I know singularly little about him.

At this point the exertion of shouting down six bagpipes in active eruption caused a temporary cessation of the lady's eloquence, and the pause was filled by the cheers of the crowd led by the "Hip-hip-hip!" of Count Bunker, and by the broken and fortunately inaudible protests of the embarrassed father of future Tulliwuddles. In a moment Mrs. Gallosh had resumed

Accordingly the portraits of four centuries of Tulliwuddles beheld their representative appear in the very castle of Hechnahoul with his trouser-legs capering beneath an ill-hung petticoat of tartan. And, to make matters worse in their canvas eyes, his own shameless laugh rang loudest in the mirth that greeted his entrance. "Ze garb of Gaul!" he announced, shaking with hilarity.