hat off her head. She grabbed it just in time and settled it more snuggly. “If I remember, I’ll ask. Or maybe Alice and Peggy can do that while I concentrate on the sporran and ferrules.”
“I love watching the guys with the bass drums,” Peggy declared. “Em, see how they twirl the mallets in between the beats?”
Having lost sight of the boy when the band turned to position themselves behind an earlier band, Em moved her attention to the drummers of a band closer to where they were sitting. “I wonder if they ever hit themselves with all that twirling and whirling.”
“The beaters look kinda puffy to me,” said Wally. “That might soften the blow if they mess up.”
Emily laughed at that before turning her attention back to the finale, as all the bands played Scotland the Brave and then marched smartly off the field.
Alice nudged Annie as the bands turned about-face and moved away from them. “Look at all those sporrans out there. Never thought about them being worn in the back, but it makes sense with the pipes and drums. Ian’s suggestion to come here for information was spot on.”
Annie smiled over at Ian. “Well, you know our mayor, Alice. He’s always one to serve. We may have to treat him to a haggis lunch.”
“What’s haggis?” asked Emily.
Ian pictured the traditional Scottish savory pudding that includes some of the internal organs of sheep. He clasped the shoulder of his young friend. “Trust me, Em,” he said, “you don’t want to know. Not before you’ve had lunch, anyway.”
6
Peggy folded the Carsons’ quilt and tucked it into her bag. “What should we do next?”
“I’d really like to start checking with the vendors about the sporran and ferrule,” said Annie. “But I hate for y’all to feel like you have to follow me around.”
Alice intertwined her arm with Annie’s. “You know how much I enjoy poking around all kinds of shops, so I’m following you around voluntarily. Besides, I’m as curious about all this as you are.”
“Me too,” Peggy chimed in. “As long as we can see some of the dancing, I’d rather keep together.” She paused and glanced sideways at her husband, who was good-natured but not much for shopping. “But Wally and Ian might want to do something else.”
Wally ran a hand through his hair. “Well, we won’t need the chairs or quilt until the afternoon competitions, so Ian and I could take them back to the car and then … ” he paused, thinking.
Ian consulted the brochure. “Wally, are you interested in seeing any of the livestock? I have to admit I have a soft spot for Highland cattle. Their hair is as pretty as Alice’s—almost.” Wally agreed with Ian’s suggestion as the friends chuckled.
“You know what I say to my hair stylist every time I go, right?” said Alice. “Please make my hair shine like a Highland cow!”
When the laughter had died down, Annie asked, “Does everyone want to see the falconry demonstration? If you do, we could meet there at, say, ten thirty.” Her friends all showed enthusiasm for the idea, and the two groups parted, Emily giving Wally a quick hug before joining her mother for the walk to the vendor tents.
The first vendor the ladies found sported the sign, “MacTavish, Pipemaker.” Inside the white tent, tables and portable shelving displayed a variety of full bagpipes, parts, and maintenance items, such as hemp and wax. There were also instruction books, DVDs, and computer programs.
Looking around, Emily noticed something that looked familiar to her. “Hey, they’ve got recorders here.” She pointed at some long pieces, some plastic, and others made of wood. After bending over to get a closer look, she muttered, “These look a little weird, though.”
“Well, lassie, that’s because they’re not recorders,” said a man with light brown hair tending toward gray and gray eyes tending toward humor. “You’re looking at chanters, you are.”
Emily’s blue eyes widened as
“I love watching the guys with the bass drums,” Peggy declared. “Em, see how they twirl the mallets in between the beats?”
Having lost sight of the boy when the band turned to position themselves behind an earlier band, Em moved her attention to the drummers of a band closer to where they were sitting. “I wonder if they ever hit themselves with all that twirling and whirling.”
“The beaters look kinda puffy to me,” said Wally. “That might soften the blow if they mess up.”
Emily laughed at that before turning her attention back to the finale, as all the bands played Scotland the Brave and then marched smartly off the field.
Alice nudged Annie as the bands turned about-face and moved away from them. “Look at all those sporrans out there. Never thought about them being worn in the back, but it makes sense with the pipes and drums. Ian’s suggestion to come here for information was spot on.”
Annie smiled over at Ian. “Well, you know our mayor, Alice. He’s always one to serve. We may have to treat him to a haggis lunch.”
“What’s haggis?” asked Emily.
Ian pictured the traditional Scottish savory pudding that includes some of the internal organs of sheep. He clasped the shoulder of his young friend. “Trust me, Em,” he said, “you don’t want to know. Not before you’ve had lunch, anyway.”
6
Peggy folded the Carsons’ quilt and tucked it into her bag. “What should we do next?”
“I’d really like to start checking with the vendors about the sporran and ferrule,” said Annie. “But I hate for y’all to feel like you have to follow me around.”
Alice intertwined her arm with Annie’s. “You know how much I enjoy poking around all kinds of shops, so I’m following you around voluntarily. Besides, I’m as curious about all this as you are.”
“Me too,” Peggy chimed in. “As long as we can see some of the dancing, I’d rather keep together.” She paused and glanced sideways at her husband, who was good-natured but not much for shopping. “But Wally and Ian might want to do something else.”
Wally ran a hand through his hair. “Well, we won’t need the chairs or quilt until the afternoon competitions, so Ian and I could take them back to the car and then … ” he paused, thinking.
Ian consulted the brochure. “Wally, are you interested in seeing any of the livestock? I have to admit I have a soft spot for Highland cattle. Their hair is as pretty as Alice’s—almost.” Wally agreed with Ian’s suggestion as the friends chuckled.
“You know what I say to my hair stylist every time I go, right?” said Alice. “Please make my hair shine like a Highland cow!”
When the laughter had died down, Annie asked, “Does everyone want to see the falconry demonstration? If you do, we could meet there at, say, ten thirty.” Her friends all showed enthusiasm for the idea, and the two groups parted, Emily giving Wally a quick hug before joining her mother for the walk to the vendor tents.
The first vendor the ladies found sported the sign, “MacTavish, Pipemaker.” Inside the white tent, tables and portable shelving displayed a variety of full bagpipes, parts, and maintenance items, such as hemp and wax. There were also instruction books, DVDs, and computer programs.
Looking around, Emily noticed something that looked familiar to her. “Hey, they’ve got recorders here.” She pointed at some long pieces, some plastic, and others made of wood. After bending over to get a closer look, she muttered, “These look a little weird, though.”
“Well, lassie, that’s because they’re not recorders,” said a man with light brown hair tending toward gray and gray eyes tending toward humor. “You’re looking at chanters, you are.”
Emily’s blue eyes widened as
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