In an ancient and delightful garden, where glimpses of the loch below gleamed through a mass of summer foliage, and the gray castle walls looked down on smooth, green glades, the Baron slowly paced the shaven turf.

But he did not pace it quite alone, for by his side moved a graceful figure in a wide, sun-shading hat and a frock entirely irresistible.

Beneath the hat, by bending a little down, you could have seen the dark liquid eyes and tender lips of Eva Gallosh.

And the Baron frequently bent down.
"I am proud of everyzing zat I find in my home," said the Baron gallantly.
The lady's color rose, but not apparently in anger.
"Ach, here is a pretty leetle seat!" he exclaimed in a tone of pleased discovery, just as though he had not been leading her insidiously towards it ever since they, came into the garden.
It was, indeed, a most shady and secluded bench, an ideal seat for any gallant young Baron who had left his Baroness sufficiently far away.

He glanced down complacently upon his brawny knees, displayed (he could not but think) to great advantage beneath his kilt and sporran, and then with a tenderer complacency, turned his gaze upon his fair companion.
"You say you like me in ze tartan ?" he murmured.
"I adore everything Highland! Oh, Lord Tulliwuddle, how fortunate you are!" Nature had gifted Miss Gallosh with a generous share of romantic sentiment.