"Nan tells me I have nine lives like a cat. I am thinking Angus would have come after me. He's a Macdonald, you know, and loves Dad. It was really the oars' fault, they weren't able to beat through the waves prop'ly—and then they hurt my hands awful!"
She held up two little blistered palms.
"I took the boat when nobody was looking. I've never rowed all the way across by myself before, but I thought I could, only the wind came down and spoilt it all. Do you know what my name is?"
"Mysie."
"No—Flora Macdonald."
She put much importance into her tone.
"Do you know about the great Flora Macdonald? We belong to her family—and I was called Mysie Flora, but I like my friends to call me Flora. I mean to do something like she did when I grow up. If a prince doesn't come along, I must find somebody else. I'm hoping a prince—a real prince—may be hiding for his life one day, and then I shall go and help him."
Rowena did not laugh. Voice and face of the little speaker were so solemn.
"I hope you will succeed in your efforts," she said.
The little girl will chattered on.