“Oh, Billie, couldn’t you ask? I can’t stand not knowing,” exclaimed Nancy.
The old serving woman who was passing quietly through the room at this juncture came over to them.
“I ha’ been livin’ in the family this monie and monie a year,” she said, “an’ I know the tale well, Miss. It’s the auld, auld story of the twa bonnie lassies and a braw laddie who could not decide which he liked best, blue eyes or brown. It was back and forth he was from one to other, ‘til they was all three half distracted like, and there was a grand quarrel amongst ’em. Then one went awa’ to the wars, and one went to her hame across the seas and one stayed in her ain countree. An’ that’s the sum and gist of it. And if the three hearts bracht, it was even so God’s will and the decree of Providence.”
“It doesn’t sound like three brachet hearts,” remarked Billie, as the noise of talk and laughter floated down the hall.
Presently they were summoned back to the drawing-room where they were duly presented to Mr. David Ramsay. And a superb-looking old gentleman he was, indeed, as handsome as a picture. Not one of the Motor Maids but felt a special thrill, when he smiled and pressed her hand.
They talked until late in the afternoon and the party did not break up until Elinor had been prevailed upon to sit down at the tinkling little old piano, and, accompanying herself, sing:
“‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to min’?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?
”‘We twa ha’ rin aboot the braes
An’ pu’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wandered monie a weary fit
Sin’ auld lang syne.’”
CHAPTER XIX.—A RUN-DOWN HEEL AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
The Motor Maids had tasted the fine flavor of an old romance, and that in the very heart of the most romantic city in the world. And now, with the three friends united at last after nearly half a century’s obstinate separation, they all departed on a wonderful excursion to the Scotch lakes. For nearly a week they lingered in that enchanting and historic country and quite forgot the affairs of the outside world.
The mystery that enshrouded Marie-Jeanne and her strange mother; their old friend, Telemac Kalisch, whom they liked and still half feared; Maria Cortinas and the handsome Lord Glenarm; Beatrice Colchester; and last of all the kidnapping of little Arthur,—all these persons and the incidents with which they somehow had been connected had been relegated to the backs of their minds.