Babbie gave her mother a loving little hug. “I didn’t think of it all by myself—we all thought of it together, including John and Mr. Dwight. Isn’t it a nice idea, mummie? Aren’t you crazy to see your daughter’s castle by the witching light of the full moon?”
Mrs. Hildreth laughed and hugged Babbie. “I certainly am. It’s extremely interesting to have a castle in the family. You’re sure you’re not finding Oban dull, girls? I’m quite rested now from the voyage, and we can go on to London and Paris as fast as you like.”
“Oban dull!” echoed four amazed voices.
“Why, mummie, it’s perfectly splendid!” Babbie explained eagerly. “You must come with us this morning and see the cottages back behind the hill—they’re just smothered in honeysuckle. And yesterday we found where the shooting that we hear so often comes from. There’s a target back there, and funny little soldiers in plaids—think of fighting real battles in kilts, mummie!—shoot at it every afternoon.”
“And Sunday Mr. MacNish is going to take us to a Gaelic service at the Free Kirk,” put in Betty. “He’s lent Madeline a Gaelic primer, so she can learn to say good-morning to the people at the church in their own old-time language.”
“This is an open day for Fingal’s castle,” suggested Madeline. “Mrs. Hildreth ought to see that, so she can compare it with yours, Babbie.”
“Come on, dear. Get your hat this very minute,” Babbie commanded. “When you’re traveling with four B. A.’s you can’t waste time.”
“‘B. A.’s Abroad’—wouldn’t that be a nice title for the journal Madeline is keeping for us?” suggested Babe. “It’s so—so—what do you call a thing that sounds like that?”
“Alliterative,” answered Betty promptly. “I looked up that word in the fall of freshman year because Mary Brooks said it about Katherine Kittredge of Kankakee.”
“But if we have that title,” objected Babbie, “we shall have to live up to it. I read over the Glasgow chapter last evening, and it sounds pretty frivolous for B. A.’s.”