Kelpie glanced at the half of the twins who was arming himself for an afternoon of fishing, with a huge packet of scones and butter. “That’s Ronald,” she said absently as she picked up the small brown pheasant.
Three pairs of eyes focused on her in sudden sharp attention, for it took far more than a brief glance to tell one twin from the other. In fact, only their mother and Wee Mairi could invariably do it.
“I’m Donald,” asserted the twin, his eyes sparkling at her.
“You’re Ronald.” Kelpie contradicted him serenely, hardly glancing up from her plucking job.
Marsali at once took sides. “Och, now, will you be calling the wee master a liar?” she demanded indignantly, her fists planted against her hips.
“Ou, aye,” said Kelpie. “He will be teasing you,” she added, pleased to recognize it.
Fiona looked shocked. Marsali peered suspiciously from Kelpie to the twin, who giggled. “Och, well, then,” said Marsali, her ruddy face now ruddier with indignation, though she was not quite sure at whom to direct it. “Fine it is that Master Ronald has the wee mole on the back of his neck.” And she strode over to the grinning lad and lifted up the shoulder-length dark hair to look at the neck beneath. Kelpie went on plucking, perfectly sure of herself and feeling rather smug.
“Master Ronald it is!” Marsali clucked, and Fiona crossed herself and edged away from Kelpie. “How could you be knowing, save with the Black Power?”
“Aye,” demanded Ronald. “How were you knowing, Kelpie? Was it witchcraft?”
Kelpie grinned and shrugged. She couldn’t really tell how she knew. It wasn’t the look of them, but rather the feel. Donald had a more aggressive and challenging tone, and Ronald more a feel of hungry curiosity. But how could a body explain this kind of knowing? No, they would just have to think it witchcraft.