The old man understood her feelings, so without waiting for her to answer, he went on. “When you are down there in London, don’t forget that the Blakes are a proud lot and that on this occasion, you are their representative. If you find that I can help you further, call me by phone. I’d give the world to be there,” he added longingly, “but other matters that you know about keep me here. My brother must be taken care of now.
“So, lass,” he ended, “do your best and make us all proud of you.” With this, he kissed her lightly on the cheek and left her. The last thing that she saw clearly on the station steps, as the great engine gathered speed, was old James Blake waving goodby with a big white handkerchief. The last thing that she heard was the refrain of “The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond.”
“Oh, I remember now,” Nan exclaimed, when the last cottage in the village had disappeared from view, “I remember what it was that poor old Robert Blake was playing on his bagpipe! It was that song they were just singing back there. And that was the song that I heard last night when I dropped off to sleep.
“Why, that must be the lake he was telling me about this morning in the gatehouse when he told me something of his boyhood. He said he couldn’t remember the name of the place where he used to go so many times alone when he was a lad, to read and write and dream, but that he was sure that it was beautiful.
“He said that there was a mountain by a lake that had clear green water in it. He said that once when he was there, he came upon a camp of gypsies and that the old queen told his fortune.”
“What did she say?” Bess asked when it seemed that Nan wasn’t going to go on.
“She told him all about his youth,” Nan continued rather sadly, “and then about the war. After that she stopped. She said that she couldn’t be sure whether he was going to live through it or not.”
“Oh, dear,” Nan looked away from the girls and out the windows at the landscape skimming by, as she finished, “I feel so sorry for him!”
“So do I,” Grace agreed. “But, tell us, Nan, why was it he insisted on searching through your baggage the way he did?”
“Oh, Grace, he wanted to get that letter I told Mr. Blake about,” Bess answered the question. “What I want to know is, what became of it?”