“Shades of Glasgow.” Laura murmured into Nan’s ears. “Seems good to be going through this red tape again, doesn’t it?”
Nan nodded. She felt much the same as she did the day they had first stepped foot on foreign soil, an unforgettable experience that they all had talked over again and again since that morning in May when the great boat had been moored to the dock and they had walked, one after the other, down the gangplank to set their feet in Scotland for the first time. The adventures that had followed had made their vacation the most exciting of their lives as those who have read “Nan Sherwood’s Summer Holidays” all agree. Now, as they all walked forward toward the offices of the Mexican officials, Nan wondered idly what further adventures were in store for her.
“Señorita, your bag, señorita.”
“Why don’t you answer when you are called?” Walker Jamieson dropped back into step beside Nan. “Lady,” he prodded Nan with his elbow, “the handsome young Mexican with the neat little mustache that is running after us, is calling you.”
“Me?” Nan’s voice had a surprised ring to it. “Am I Señorita?”
“None other, for months to come, now.” Walker Jamieson answered. “You are Señorita Sherwood and you had better answer when these Señores call or they will be so much insulted that they will never recover.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Nan looked genuinely regretful as she turned to the tall thin native that had been following her.
“It is nothing,” he dismissed her concern with a wave of his hands, “but the Señorita has dropped her purse. May I give it to her?” He bowed gracefully as he presented it, and Nan felt that he couldn’t possibly have presented the finest gift in the world with more grace.
However, before she could possibly thank him, he disappeared. She turned to follow the others into the offices, rummaging through her purse, even as they had done, as she went.
“Why, it’s gone!” Nan looked first at her purse and then in the direction in which the obliging young Mexican had vanished.