“We can buy post-cards too,” put in Betty. “This is just the right kind of day for writing letters.”
So they tramped blithely down the hill and wandered in more leisurely fashion along Oban’s one business street.
“There’s a shoe-shop,” announced Babe presently. “And it says in the window ‘Repairing done while you wait.’”
“Goodie!” exclaimed Madeline. “Then I shall have my sole patched, too. It’s worn terribly thin on these stony Scotch roads.”
The smiling saleswoman showed the girls into a tiny back room, where Madeline could sit while she waited “with one shoe off and one shoe on.” Babbie stayed to keep her company, and Babe and Betty went off to buy post-cards, promising to come back before long with sweet chocolate for the captives.
“This looks like a book-store,” said Babe, stopping before a little shop with magazines in the window. “We might inquire about the history of Babbie’s castle.”
A severe-looking, heavily bearded old gentleman came out from a back room to meet them. No, this was not a book-shop, he explained gruffly; it was a stationer’s; there were two book-shops at the other end of the esplanade.
Just then Betty caught sight of some post-cards. “Oh, what lovely cards!” she cried. “Here’s one of Dunollie, and one of Dunstaffnage, and oh—here’s that lovely gray beach that we came down to from the black cow’s pasture. Caernavan Sands is its name. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”
“My cairds are hand-teented,” said the old stationer in broad Scotch. “They are tuppence ha’ penny each. Not that it mak’s ony deeference to you, maybe.”
“Tuppence ha’ penny,” repeated Babe meditatively. “That’s five cents—cheap enough for hand-colored ones, I’m sure.”