The two wanderers, who had by some accident of fate been born in a foreign land when they might just as well have been born in Scotland where they really belonged, walked on the air of expectancy.
Behind them followed those three alien persons of Irish and English descent who regarded the sights like any common tourists and experienced only tourists’ palpitations.
Miss Campbell pulled out her watch nervously.
“Did our Cousin Annie say that half past one was the lunch hour?” she asked.
“Yes,” answered Billie. “The note said, ‘It would felicitate me if you, my dear Cousin Helen, and my younger cousin, Wilhelmina, and your three American friends, will lunch with me this afternoon at half past one.’”
“A very unusual woman, my dear,” said Miss Campbell. “Thirty years ago she was the very pink of propriety——”
“Meaning as stiff as a ramrod?” asked Billie.
“Well, yes, a little stiff, to the free and easy American type. We must mind our manners this afternoon and be very careful what we do and say.”
“In the meantime, we’ll enjoy life,” cried Billie. “We’ll look at the Old Town and the Castle and when the time comes for lunch, we’ll bottle up our spirits and pretend we are just Scotch spinsters and members of the Presbyterian Church. And, by the way, Cousin Helen, are you going to mention that in the last hundred years we’ve turned Episcopal?”
“We sha’n’t thrust it on her, child,” replied the little lady. “If she brings up the subject, of course we will have to tell her the truth.”