Just as Billie and Nancy passed under the arch leading from the courtyard and turned toward the New Town, a very old man and a little boy, walking hand in hand and talking happily together, crossed the narrow street.
“There goes Billie,” cried the little boy excitedly.
“I think not, my son,” answered the old man, and the two disappeared under the archway.
“Wait a moment, Nancy,” exclaimed Billie, with a sudden determination.
“What is it?” asked her friend.
Billie hurried back. There was a name and number at the entrance, which she ’graved in her memory; also the name of the street.
“We might just as well keep Marie-Jeanne’s address,” she said.
“I remember the number on the door,” said Nancy. “It was No. 7, and the way I happened to remember it is when we were climbing up I noticed it and thought, ‘Here are some people who live in a seventh heaven.’”
But that ended the adventures of the Motor Maids in the Land of the Thistle. The next morning they turned their faces southward. In the Land of the Shamrock, Billie was to realize how important small impulses sometimes are in the shaping of great events.