Part 1 (2/2)

”Who said you were?” The old Scotchman roared and then threw back his head and laughed long and heartily at the young girl who seemed so self-possessed no matter what he said or did. Nan laughed with him and then, turning toward Bess, she introduced her eccentric old relative and his pretty daughter, Alice, a young lady about five years older than Nan who, up to this time, had said nothing, but had watched her father with amus.e.m.e.nt.

At the introduction, Adair MacKenzie bowed gracefully and, taking Bess's hand lightly in his, kissed it quickly. ”You're a nice la.s.sie,” he said then. ”Now let's all sit down and talk a while about this trip to Mexico.”

”To Mexico!” Bess was wide-eyed as the exclamation slipped off her tongue. ”Are we going to Mexico?”

”Why, yes. That was all settled weeks ago,” MacKenzie knitted his brows as he looked at Bess. ”Such a bright young la.s.sie and yet she didn't know that!”

”Don't mind father,” Alice took Bess's hand in hers. ”He goes about planning all these things and never says anything to anyone until he has everything all ready. It used to wear me out, but now I think it is quite charming of him. Of course, it keeps everyone at home in a constant state of turmoil and it makes the housekeeper furious, but then we manage.”

”Manage!” the old man exploded again. ”Manage! Why, you imp, you, you love it and you know you do. It's the spice of life to you. Mexico, Europe, Alaska, South America, Egypt, why, the world's a place to live in, not just to read about. India and China and j.a.pan, these are places we haven't been.”

”And daddy, we're not going just yet.” Alice acted as though she wanted to forestall any possibility of their starting off the next day or the next hour for the Orient. ”Remember, it's Mexico we're going to this summer. We're going to live in that big hacienda that was dumped into your hands when you sued those clients of yours that were exporters in Mexico City. Oh, daddy, remember, when you came back the last time, you said it was a grand old place with gorgeous vines flinging scarlet sprays all over everything.”

”Yes, I remember. I said that the sunsets were more gorgeous, the birds more brilliant, the flowers brighter, the moon more silver, the sea bluer than anything we've ever seen.”

”And that wasn't all you said,” Alice seemed to be baiting her father now.

”I know it.” He fell right into the trap of the daughter whom he adored.

”I said also that there was a bunch of darn Mexicans cluttering up the place down there who put the politeness of us Southerners to shame.

Never saw anything like it,” he turned to Mrs. Sherwood with this. ”They fall all over themselves every time they turn around, and women just eat it up. Can't stand it myself. Never get anything done. Have to change that.”

Mrs. Sherwood laughed softly at this. Adair had not changed a bit since she saw him last, and that was longer ago than she liked to remember.

That was at her wedding. She smiled now to herself in recalling it. She and Bob, in their anxiety to escape from the wedding reception without being followed, had taken Adair into their confidence. He had promised to get them a horse and buggy, to see that they got off safely to the train that was to bring them up North on their honeymoon. He had told them to leave everything to him, and, in their innocence, they had.

Adair had meant well, but somehow or other in his peremptory handling of events, he got everything in such confusion that practically the whole town turned out to see the Sherwoods off. They, in their turn, almost missed the train, for the horse and buggy never did arrive. However, it had all turned out happily, and when the bride and groom stood on the back of the train and waved to their friends, they had an especially fond feeling for Adair. He, however, felt pretty glum, and their last view of him was of a perplexed young man standing off alone on one corner of the station platform, wondering how in the world all of the people had happened to be there.

No, Adair, she could see, hadn't changed a bit. He still liked to manage people, still liked to follow up any impulsive idea that came to his active mind. Through the years, tales of his adventures had reached her by letter from friends and relatives. Adair himself was not given to writing. ”Takes too much time,” he said. ”Can't sit still that long.”

His visit now was a surprise. He had arrived, unannounced, when she and Nan were in a turmoil unpacking the trunks that Nan had brought back from school with her. Only the peremptory peal of the doorbell had announced his coming. When she opened the door, he had taken her in his arms and kissed her and then, without even introducing Alice whom she had never met, he began immediately to call for Nan.

”Where's that girl?” he asked almost before he was inside the door.

”Come all the way up here from Memphis to see her and then she doesn't even come to greet me.” In his impatience, he pounded on the floor with his cane. Mrs. Sherwood called her daughter.

”You're Nan,” he said positively, when Nan finally entered the room.

”I'm Adair. I would have known you anyplace. You look and walk and talk (Nan hadn't said a word) just like your mother. The same eyes, the same hair, the same determined chin. Now I believe everything I've been hearing about you. Didn't before. Sounded like a bunch of nonsense to me.”

”Young school girl takes part in English coronation. Young school girl saves child from rattlesnake. Young school girl saves life of old lady.

Didn't believe a word of it. Now I do. You're going to Mexico with me.”

”Adair MacKenzie!” Mrs. Sherwood exclaimed. ”Will you please lay your cane aside, take off your coat, put your hat down and have a chair before you go sweeping Nan off her feet with your scatterbrained ideas.

”Nan, don't worry, darling,” she turned toward her daughter and laughed.

”This man is really quite harmless. He is Adair MacKenzie, our cousin.

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