Ralestone Luck

How hold ye Lorne?
By the oak leaf, By the sea wave, By the broadsword blade, Thus hold we Lorne!
The oak leaf is dust, The sea wave is gone, The broadsword is rust, How now hold ye Lorne?
By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne!
Once upon a time two brave princes and a beautiful princess set out to make their fortunes— began the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy by the roadster.
Royalty is out of fashion, corrected Ricky Ralestone somewhat indifferently. Can't you do better than that? She gave her small, pert hat an exasperated tweak which brought the unoffending bowl-shaped bit of white felt into its proper position over her right eyebrow. How long does it take Rupert to ask a single simple question?
Her brother Val watched the gas gage on the instrument board of the roadster fluctuate wildly as the attendant of the station shook the hose to speed the flow of the last few drops. Five gallons—a dollar ten. Did he have that much? He began to assemble various small hoards of change from different pockets.
Do you think we're going to like this? Ricky waved her hand vaguely in a gesture which included a dilapidated hot-dog stand and a stretch of road white-hot under the steady baking of the sun.
Well, I think that Pirate's Haven is slightly different from our present surroundings. Where's your proper pride? Not everyone can be classed among the New Poor, Val observed judiciously.
Nobility in the bread line. His sister sniffed with what she fondly believed was the air of a Van Astor dowager.
Nobility?