Indeed, the poor dog hardly knew what to do with joy. He whined, he cried, he kissed and caressed his master, and scolded him in turns. Then he stood a little way off and barked at him. “How could you have left your poor Oscar so long?” he seemed to say. Then advancing more quietly, he once more placed a paw on each of his master’s shoulders and licked his ear. “I love you still,” he said.
After this he welcomed Matty, but in a manner far more gentle, for he ever looked upon her as a baby—his own baby, as it were. And there she was, her arms around his massive neck, kissing his bonnie broad brow—just a baby still.
The Isle of Flowers was very lovely now, and the valley—
“Oh?” cried Annie, in raptures, as she gazed down the verdant strath. “Surely this is fairyland itself!”
The ladies, and Jeannie as well, were the guests of the Queen during the long, happy month they stayed on the island.
There was no more gold-seeking or pearl-fishing to any great extent. Only one day they all went up the valley and had a delightful picnic by the winding river and under the shade of the magnolia trees. Reginald and Dickson both waded into the river, and were lucky enough, when they came out with their bags full of oysters, to find some rare and beautiful pearls. They were as pure as any Scotch ever taken from the Tay, and had a pretty pinkish hue.
But now Jeannie Lee herself must bare her shapely legs and feet and try her luck. She wanted one big pearl for her dear mistress, she said, and three wee ones for a ring for somebody. Yes, and she was most successful, and Annie is wearing that large pearl now as I write. And the three smaller? Well, I may as well tell it here and be done with it. McGregor, the handsome, bold sailor, had asked Jeannie to be his wife, and she had consented. The ring was for Mac.
On Lone Tree Mountain, assisted by the men, Dickson and Reginald soon set to digging, and found all their gold and pearls safe and sound.