that’s why you played against sheep.”
“The better teams were made up of boys at higher grade levels than mine,” said Cameron reproachfully. “And I was rather thin in those days.”
“Get back to the sheep.”
“We played a Saturday-morning game against the Royal High School team on that field near the palace. I played fullback, where you stayed back and hoped the other team didn’t try to score.
Nobody
wanted to be tackled during that game because, as I said, the sheep used that field a lot more than the rugby team had. Of course, the other team’s colors were black and white, so there was a chance it mightn’t have shown up …”
“I trust the sheep won’t be grazing on the site of the garden party.”
“I doubt it, but you might want to wear brown shoes just in case.”
Elizabeth decided to ignore him. “Is it all set, then, about my going?”
“I think so. I hunted up Adam McIver, and he said he’d see what he could do.”
“Will we be able to go inside the palace?”
“Well, you can’t do as the sheep do, if that’s what you mean. But you won’t be able to wander about looking at tapestries, either. No tours while the royal family is in residence. It’s just an ordinary castle—paneled walls, paintings right and left, you know—the usual decor. Now, perhaps, at transatlantic phone prices, we ought to talk about the wedding.”
“All is well. The invitations are being printed; the department head has been placated; and the engagementannouncement has gone out to the newspapers. I leave for Chandler Grove tomorrow. How are things in Scotland?”
“As far as wedding plans? No problem. Plane reservations are made and we’ve made all the phone calls to the relatives.”
“Solved your kidnapping yet?” asked Elizabeth.
“What, the gnome? No, but it’s the damnedest thing!”
“What?”
“We got a postcard from him today.”
“You did? From the thief?”
“No,” said Cameron dryly. “From the gnome.”
“I didn’t know it knew its address. What does the postcard say?”
There was a pause and then Cameron, obviously reading from the card in question, intoned:
“Decided to go on holiday. Having wonderful time. Wish you were here.—(Signed) Your Garden Gnome
. It’s addressed to
The Dawsons.”
“Where is he?”
“The postcard is from Ibiza, and the stamps are Spanish. Postmarked there three days ago.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Are you going after him?”
“No. I think that all our traveling will be in another direction. To the state of Georgia, to be exact. I told someone at church where I was getting married and he said,
‘In the Soviet Union?’”
“Yes, we tend to forget that they have a Georgia, too.”
“The accents are similar,” said Cameron.
Elizabeth ignored this gibe. “It will be wonderful to see your mother and Ian again.”
“Mother’s looking forward to her first visit to the States. She’s mad to do some sightseeing. Wants to know where she’s staying.”
Elizabeth smiled to herself. “You all are going to use my aunt Louisa’s place. It’s across the road from the Chandlers’.”
“Your auntie’s place. I see. And what’s it like?”
“Oh, it’s just an ordinary castle—paneled walls, paintings right and left. You know—the usual.”
In the frozen-foods aisle of the Chandler Grove Piggly Wiggly, Tommy Simmons was reading the nutritional information on the back of the microwaveable dinners. He supposed he ought to get into the habit of preparing real food, but there didn’t seem to be any point in cooking for one. Besides, people often took pity on his bachelor status and invited him out to dinner. Most of these dinners required him to give free legal advice on some minor matter, such as whether the owners of amorous tomcats could be made to pay child support for the resulting kittens (
no
), but Tommy didn’t mind. It made a nice change from land transfers and will drafting.
Perhaps he ought to try
“The better teams were made up of boys at higher grade levels than mine,” said Cameron reproachfully. “And I was rather thin in those days.”
“Get back to the sheep.”
“We played a Saturday-morning game against the Royal High School team on that field near the palace. I played fullback, where you stayed back and hoped the other team didn’t try to score.
Nobody
wanted to be tackled during that game because, as I said, the sheep used that field a lot more than the rugby team had. Of course, the other team’s colors were black and white, so there was a chance it mightn’t have shown up …”
“I trust the sheep won’t be grazing on the site of the garden party.”
“I doubt it, but you might want to wear brown shoes just in case.”
Elizabeth decided to ignore him. “Is it all set, then, about my going?”
“I think so. I hunted up Adam McIver, and he said he’d see what he could do.”
“Will we be able to go inside the palace?”
“Well, you can’t do as the sheep do, if that’s what you mean. But you won’t be able to wander about looking at tapestries, either. No tours while the royal family is in residence. It’s just an ordinary castle—paneled walls, paintings right and left, you know—the usual decor. Now, perhaps, at transatlantic phone prices, we ought to talk about the wedding.”
“All is well. The invitations are being printed; the department head has been placated; and the engagementannouncement has gone out to the newspapers. I leave for Chandler Grove tomorrow. How are things in Scotland?”
“As far as wedding plans? No problem. Plane reservations are made and we’ve made all the phone calls to the relatives.”
“Solved your kidnapping yet?” asked Elizabeth.
“What, the gnome? No, but it’s the damnedest thing!”
“What?”
“We got a postcard from him today.”
“You did? From the thief?”
“No,” said Cameron dryly. “From the gnome.”
“I didn’t know it knew its address. What does the postcard say?”
There was a pause and then Cameron, obviously reading from the card in question, intoned:
“Decided to go on holiday. Having wonderful time. Wish you were here.—(Signed) Your Garden Gnome
. It’s addressed to
The Dawsons.”
“Where is he?”
“The postcard is from Ibiza, and the stamps are Spanish. Postmarked there three days ago.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Are you going after him?”
“No. I think that all our traveling will be in another direction. To the state of Georgia, to be exact. I told someone at church where I was getting married and he said,
‘In the Soviet Union?’”
“Yes, we tend to forget that they have a Georgia, too.”
“The accents are similar,” said Cameron.
Elizabeth ignored this gibe. “It will be wonderful to see your mother and Ian again.”
“Mother’s looking forward to her first visit to the States. She’s mad to do some sightseeing. Wants to know where she’s staying.”
Elizabeth smiled to herself. “You all are going to use my aunt Louisa’s place. It’s across the road from the Chandlers’.”
“Your auntie’s place. I see. And what’s it like?”
“Oh, it’s just an ordinary castle—paneled walls, paintings right and left. You know—the usual.”
In the frozen-foods aisle of the Chandler Grove Piggly Wiggly, Tommy Simmons was reading the nutritional information on the back of the microwaveable dinners. He supposed he ought to get into the habit of preparing real food, but there didn’t seem to be any point in cooking for one. Besides, people often took pity on his bachelor status and invited him out to dinner. Most of these dinners required him to give free legal advice on some minor matter, such as whether the owners of amorous tomcats could be made to pay child support for the resulting kittens (
no
), but Tommy didn’t mind. It made a nice change from land transfers and will drafting.
Perhaps he ought to try
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