different pins.” As the girl pointed them out to the woman, Peggy and Emily left the displays by the entrance and perused the pins on the table, but they saw no hawk-and-rose or juniper sprigs.
“The pins here are pretty, Mom, but I don’t see anything like the pictures,” Emily said to Peggy.
“On to the next place we go, then.” Peggy took her daughter’s hand, and they left the tent. “I can’t wait to tell Annie and Alice about Eli and Linley. They were so sweet.”
Emily giggled, “They were all googly-eyed.”
“Now we have to look really fast in these other tents.” Peggy pointed to a blue tent a few tents ahead of them. “Let’s try that one next.”
While mother and daughter explored their side of the tents, Annie and Alice ducked inside the tent of a vendor of clan tartans and crests. The riotous colors gave the portable room a cheerful atmosphere, which matched the energy of the entire Highland Games and kept the two women from feeling discouraged in their search. Against one wall stood several collections of matted clan crests and badges, ready for framing.
“We can each start at an end and work our way in,” suggested Alice.
“Works for me,” Annie agreed and moved to the far end of the wall. “Hopefully, this place will give us more info to go on than Mr. MacTavish did.”
Alice started flipping through the matted and plastic-covered prints, which began alphabetically with Abercromby. “He seemed like a nice guy, though. I suspect he’d be a hoot at a Robbie Burns Dinner.”
“Have you ever been to a Burns Dinner?” Annie asked as she looked at the first clan at her end, Young. The badge for that clan was yew and the crest looked nothing like the hawk and rose on the ferrule.
“Well, no,” Alice admitted. “But I’ve heard about them. The same group that helps put on the Highland Games hosts a dinner in Portland to celebrate Robert Burns’s birthday.” She moved swiftly past the first several clans, not seeing anything either. “You know, since you do have Scottish roots in your family, we should think about going to one some year.”
“Maybe,” Annie began to answer. “Hey! I found a juniper! It’s the badge for clan Ross.” She lifted out the print to examine it closer. “But there’s no hawk or rose in the crest.” She returned the print to its place and pulled a small notepad from her purse, jotting down the name.
Spurred on by the find, the two women stopped the chatter and picked up the pace of their search. Soon, it was Alice’s turn for discovery. “Here’s another juniper badge! It’s for clan Gunn. Hmmm, no hawk and rose here either.”
Annie added “Gunn” to her list, and within a few minutes, they had met in the middle and added three more clan names—MacLeod, Murray, and Nicolson.
“Well, we’ve narrowed down considerably the possible name for the owner of the sporran,” said Alice. “Not a bad half-morning’s work.”
Annie was staring at her list. “But we don’t know if the owner was a man or woman. It may be a family heirloom passed down to a daughter. Likely, a daughter would marry and not be a Ross, Gunn, MacLeod, Murray, or Nicolson anymore. The owner could now be a Perez or Svingli for all we know.”
“We’ve had less to go on with other mysteries, Annie,” Alice reminded her friend. “Somehow, a pathway always manages to open up. It’s a start.”
Annie nodded, thankful for her friend’s perspective. “Yes, it is. And we still have plenty of time to explore before the end of the day. Besides, coming here wasn’t just about the mystery, and I don’t want to let it ruin a fun day with friends.”
“The search for balance goes on!” Alice clapped a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “On to the next tent!”
The two friends hurried to a tent with a sign that read “Kilt and Caboodle,” which featured every accessory one could need for a full-dress kilt.
Annie’s eyes widened as she took in the range of
“The pins here are pretty, Mom, but I don’t see anything like the pictures,” Emily said to Peggy.
“On to the next place we go, then.” Peggy took her daughter’s hand, and they left the tent. “I can’t wait to tell Annie and Alice about Eli and Linley. They were so sweet.”
Emily giggled, “They were all googly-eyed.”
“Now we have to look really fast in these other tents.” Peggy pointed to a blue tent a few tents ahead of them. “Let’s try that one next.”
While mother and daughter explored their side of the tents, Annie and Alice ducked inside the tent of a vendor of clan tartans and crests. The riotous colors gave the portable room a cheerful atmosphere, which matched the energy of the entire Highland Games and kept the two women from feeling discouraged in their search. Against one wall stood several collections of matted clan crests and badges, ready for framing.
“We can each start at an end and work our way in,” suggested Alice.
“Works for me,” Annie agreed and moved to the far end of the wall. “Hopefully, this place will give us more info to go on than Mr. MacTavish did.”
Alice started flipping through the matted and plastic-covered prints, which began alphabetically with Abercromby. “He seemed like a nice guy, though. I suspect he’d be a hoot at a Robbie Burns Dinner.”
“Have you ever been to a Burns Dinner?” Annie asked as she looked at the first clan at her end, Young. The badge for that clan was yew and the crest looked nothing like the hawk and rose on the ferrule.
“Well, no,” Alice admitted. “But I’ve heard about them. The same group that helps put on the Highland Games hosts a dinner in Portland to celebrate Robert Burns’s birthday.” She moved swiftly past the first several clans, not seeing anything either. “You know, since you do have Scottish roots in your family, we should think about going to one some year.”
“Maybe,” Annie began to answer. “Hey! I found a juniper! It’s the badge for clan Ross.” She lifted out the print to examine it closer. “But there’s no hawk or rose in the crest.” She returned the print to its place and pulled a small notepad from her purse, jotting down the name.
Spurred on by the find, the two women stopped the chatter and picked up the pace of their search. Soon, it was Alice’s turn for discovery. “Here’s another juniper badge! It’s for clan Gunn. Hmmm, no hawk and rose here either.”
Annie added “Gunn” to her list, and within a few minutes, they had met in the middle and added three more clan names—MacLeod, Murray, and Nicolson.
“Well, we’ve narrowed down considerably the possible name for the owner of the sporran,” said Alice. “Not a bad half-morning’s work.”
Annie was staring at her list. “But we don’t know if the owner was a man or woman. It may be a family heirloom passed down to a daughter. Likely, a daughter would marry and not be a Ross, Gunn, MacLeod, Murray, or Nicolson anymore. The owner could now be a Perez or Svingli for all we know.”
“We’ve had less to go on with other mysteries, Annie,” Alice reminded her friend. “Somehow, a pathway always manages to open up. It’s a start.”
Annie nodded, thankful for her friend’s perspective. “Yes, it is. And we still have plenty of time to explore before the end of the day. Besides, coming here wasn’t just about the mystery, and I don’t want to let it ruin a fun day with friends.”
“The search for balance goes on!” Alice clapped a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “On to the next tent!”
The two friends hurried to a tent with a sign that read “Kilt and Caboodle,” which featured every accessory one could need for a full-dress kilt.
Annie’s eyes widened as she took in the range of
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