‘One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear
When they reach’d the hall door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They’ll have fleet steeds that follow, quoth young Lochinvar.’”
“And then at the end,” Bess went on, “there was this,
‘There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie lea,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?’”
“Oh, Nan,” Bess laughed when she had finished, “when I was a kid I thought there couldn’t possibly be anything more romantic than that.”
“Nor I neither,” Nan admitted, “And I thought of it often when we were in Scotland last summer. But do you know, Bess,” she giggled, “that Young Lochinvar of today would have to dash up in a car—”
“Yes, or in Mexico it might be a burro,” Bess laughed heartily at the thought.
“Say, what are you two making such a rumpus about,” Laura stuck her head in through the door. “First thing you know, they’ll be locking you up as a couple of laughing hyenas, because you are making such a racket.”
“Come on in, Laura,” Nan invited, “We’ve just got a silly streak, that’s all. Bess, here, had a couple of crazy ideas that she aired. She’s all right now. You can come in,” she finished reassuringly. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” Laura answered in such an unusual tone that Nan knew immediately something was wrong.
“Come, what is it?” she asked again, going over to Laura and closing the door behind her.