Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order?
March! March! Eskdale and Liddesdale!
All the blue bonnets are over the border.’”
Blue Bonnet’s cheeks were glowing. “Now whistle it again,” she begged.
“Uncle Cliff used always to whistle it,” she explained, when Alec had done so. “That’s how I could tell he was coming at night. I would go to meet him as soon as I heard it.”
“But why did he always choose that tune?”
“Oh, I reckon he liked it. Alec, I wish you knew Uncle Cliff.”
“So do I. What is he like?”
“He’s big and strong and good, and he’s never cross with me.”
“Grandfather’s ‘big and strong and good, and he’s never cross with me.’ All the same, he’s terribly disappointed, and so am I.”