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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Your senses to confound and fuddle, Behold the Wraith of Tulliwuddle!" This was sufficiently terrifying, one would think, to excuse the Baron for following the example of his host. But, though he found afterwards that he must have perspired freely, he courageously stood his ground. "Vy have you gomed here?" he demanded in a voice nearly as hollow as the Wraith.
"Ach, it is ze ozzer Tollvoddle!" he exclaimed. "So! zat is it, of course." "You mean to say there is another peerage of Tulliwuddle?" "Oh, yes." "Fetch Debrett, Ri!" But Ri had already not only fetched Debrett, but found the place. "A darned lie. Thought so," he observed succinctly. The luckless diplomatist was now committed to perdition. "It is not in ze books," he exclaimed.
They had only time to observe that he had a sanguine complexion, iron-gray whiskers, and a wide-open eye, before he raised the cap and, in a decidedly North British accent, thus addressed them "My lord ahem! your lordship, I should say I presume I've the pleasure of seeing Lord Tulliwuddle?" The Count gently pushed his more distinguished friend in front.
"Indeed, Lord Tulliwuddle, you may." "By ze Gad!" announced the Baron, in a voice braced with resolution. "May I take the liberty of inspecting the aviary?" said the Count. "With the very greatest pleasure," replied the heiress kindly. His last distinct impression as he withdrew was of the Baron giving his mustache a more formidable twirl.
Preparing herself for a delicious bit of sentiment, she tenderly unfolded and smoothed it out. "Verses!" she exclaimed rapturously; but the next instant her pleasure gave place to a look of the extremest mystification. "What does this mean?" she gasped. There was, in fact, some excuse for her perplexity, since the precise text of the enclosure ran thus: "TO LORD TULLIWUDDLE.
"I greatly approve of putting things on so sound a footing, and with equal frankness I may tell you in confidence, of course that Lord Tulliwuddle also is not without alternatives. He would, however, prefer to offer his title and estates to Miss Maddison, provided that there is no personal objection to be found on either side." Mr. Maddison's eye brightened and his tone warmed.
"Oh, papa, do him credit!" she cried; "it's like a story come true! What a romantic thing to happen!" "What a spirit!" her mother reflected proudly. "She is just the girl for a chieftain's bride!" That very night was chosen for the ceremony, and eleven o'clock found them all assembled breathless in the drawing-room: all, save Lord Tulliwuddle and his host.
He threw an imploring glance at his friend, who, without hesitation, threw himself into the breach. "Lord Tulliwuddle feels the natural diffidence of a lover in adequately expressing his sentiments. I understand that he craves your permission to lay a certain case before a certain lady. I am right, Tulliwuddle?"
She turned with a shrug and cast her eyes upon the wall. "How do you like this picture? It's my latest toy. I call it just sweet!" He cautiously examined the painting. "It is vary pretty." "Do you know Romney's work?" The Baron shrank back. "Not again to-day, please!" Miss Maddison opened her handsome eyes to their widest. "My word!" she cried. "If these are Highland manners, Lord Tulliwuddle!"
"Pardon me, but I am requested by Lord Tulliwuddle to show any attention I can to the comfort of his guests. Can you see well from where you are?"
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