“Ah, yes, I remember,” he said with a slight smile. “Let us sit down here,” leading her to a rustic seat near at hand, “and I will see what I can do to excite the curiosity of the strangers.”
“Oh, I’m glad now I was left behind!” Lulu exclaimed as she took the offered seat and turned an excited, expectant face toward her companion.
For a minute or more he seemed buried in thought, then suddenly the clear notes of a bugle seemed to come from behind a clump of trees a few rods distant from where they sat.
Lulu was startled for an instant and turned in that direction, half expecting to catch a glimpse of the bugler. Then she laughed and clapped her hands softly.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” she said. “They’ll be sure there’s somebody there and wonder who it can be. Yes, see how they are turning their heads in that direction.”
“Can you see the expression o’ ony o’ their countenances, bit lassie? I canna, for my eyes are growing old.”
“Yes, sir. I can see that Miss Keith looks startled and astonished and seems to be questioning Uncle Harold, and that Mr. Croly is laughing and trying his best to catch a peep at the trumpeter. The others I think look as if they are trying to keep from laughing. I dare say they see you here, sir, and can guess what it means. Oh, there’s our Prince! He seems to be in search of the trumpeter.”
Even as Lulu spoke she was startled by another bugle-blast seemingly directly behind them, or from the branches of the tree under which they sat.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to look behind her; then with a merry laugh, “I wasn’t expecting your bugler to come so very near, sir.”