watching the hammer throwing and the caber tossing. I saw some of the caber tossing and found it pretty weird. The caber is a great big log about the size of a telephone pole. You're supposed to raise it upright, then spin it around and try to make it fall pointing the other way. It looked totally impossible to me. In fact few of the contestants managed to do it.
After we came home, Ron found a long two-by-four in Dad's toolshed, and he tried to toss it like a caber when he thought no one was looking. But he had to give it up. I suspected that he planned to try it again when he was five years older and two feet taller—if he ever got to be two feet taller.
“You might think dancing is much easier compared tohammer throwing and caber tossing,” continued Grandpa. “But it's just as hard. Some people believe Highland dancing was really a victor's celebration after winning a battle!” Then Grandpa gave his clinching argument. “In the old days, only menfolk did the dancing. It was considered too strenuous for the womenfolk!”
That made Ron draw himself up straighter. After Grandpa's little talk, Ron was ready to accept the kilt, the cap, and the purse. But he still made a face as he tucked in the frilly blouse.
Grandpa noticed Ron's expression. “Don't sneer at the fancy lace decoration on your blouse. Bonnie Prince Charlie wore a lacy blouse with his kilt at the Battle of Culloden!”
Personally, I found it hard to believe that Bonnie Prince Charlie did any such thing. But it was true that our children's book of Scottish history had an illustration showing the prince at the battle, looking very handsome in his kilt and his lacy blouse.
“Maybe that's why he lost the battle of Culloden,” said Grandma, and winked at me.
Grandpa turned bright red and drew a deep breath togive a crushing reply, but the doorbell rang and the dancers began to arrive.
Maggie blinked at the sight of my orange Jell-O hair, but she was too polite to say anything. Then she saw Ron dressed in his Highland outfit. “Hey, is that boy going to join our troupe?”
I nodded. “He's my brother, and he'll be taking my place in the dance.”
Maggie looked surprised. “Your brother? But he's got red hair!”
What she meant was that Ron had genuine red hair. “He looks cool in that kilt,” she added.
Ron belonged and I didn't. I turned away, trying not to mind.
The eight dancers took their places, now consisting of four boys standing opposite four girls. Grandpa raised his bow. His eyes were bright as he looked at Ron in the row of four boys. He brought his bow down on the opening bars of the first reel, and soon the room began to shake again with the thumps of pounding feet.
I watched Ron gradually getting the hang of the dances. He really was quick and light on his feet, and hisreflexes were good. Before long, he was swept into the dances, and he was keeping up pretty well. It seemed that Grandpa's worries were over.
As I watched the brilliantly dressed dancers whirling and spinning in front of me, I tried hard to feel glad for Ron. After all, it had been my idea for him to take my place.
Now I was free to put on Nainai's costume and take part in Dad's program. I left the living room, slowly climbed the stairs, and went to my room.
Nainai was upstairs sitting at my desk, reading one of Dad's Chinese paperback books. For years I thought those were serious books about philosophy or history. Then Dad confessed that they were adventure stories about outlaws and bandits, full of sword fights and chases and kung fu. When I told Ron about it, he said it was worth learning Chinese to read those books. I bet anything he'd do it, someday.
When Nainai saw me come in, she smiled and put the book down. “Ready to try on your costume, Fiona?” she asked.
She opened her suitcase and carefully took out theshiny silk jacket and trousers. Seeing the jacket unfolded, I caught my breath again. Against the green silk material, the embroidered
After we came home, Ron found a long two-by-four in Dad's toolshed, and he tried to toss it like a caber when he thought no one was looking. But he had to give it up. I suspected that he planned to try it again when he was five years older and two feet taller—if he ever got to be two feet taller.
“You might think dancing is much easier compared tohammer throwing and caber tossing,” continued Grandpa. “But it's just as hard. Some people believe Highland dancing was really a victor's celebration after winning a battle!” Then Grandpa gave his clinching argument. “In the old days, only menfolk did the dancing. It was considered too strenuous for the womenfolk!”
That made Ron draw himself up straighter. After Grandpa's little talk, Ron was ready to accept the kilt, the cap, and the purse. But he still made a face as he tucked in the frilly blouse.
Grandpa noticed Ron's expression. “Don't sneer at the fancy lace decoration on your blouse. Bonnie Prince Charlie wore a lacy blouse with his kilt at the Battle of Culloden!”
Personally, I found it hard to believe that Bonnie Prince Charlie did any such thing. But it was true that our children's book of Scottish history had an illustration showing the prince at the battle, looking very handsome in his kilt and his lacy blouse.
“Maybe that's why he lost the battle of Culloden,” said Grandma, and winked at me.
Grandpa turned bright red and drew a deep breath togive a crushing reply, but the doorbell rang and the dancers began to arrive.
Maggie blinked at the sight of my orange Jell-O hair, but she was too polite to say anything. Then she saw Ron dressed in his Highland outfit. “Hey, is that boy going to join our troupe?”
I nodded. “He's my brother, and he'll be taking my place in the dance.”
Maggie looked surprised. “Your brother? But he's got red hair!”
What she meant was that Ron had genuine red hair. “He looks cool in that kilt,” she added.
Ron belonged and I didn't. I turned away, trying not to mind.
The eight dancers took their places, now consisting of four boys standing opposite four girls. Grandpa raised his bow. His eyes were bright as he looked at Ron in the row of four boys. He brought his bow down on the opening bars of the first reel, and soon the room began to shake again with the thumps of pounding feet.
I watched Ron gradually getting the hang of the dances. He really was quick and light on his feet, and hisreflexes were good. Before long, he was swept into the dances, and he was keeping up pretty well. It seemed that Grandpa's worries were over.
As I watched the brilliantly dressed dancers whirling and spinning in front of me, I tried hard to feel glad for Ron. After all, it had been my idea for him to take my place.
Now I was free to put on Nainai's costume and take part in Dad's program. I left the living room, slowly climbed the stairs, and went to my room.
Nainai was upstairs sitting at my desk, reading one of Dad's Chinese paperback books. For years I thought those were serious books about philosophy or history. Then Dad confessed that they were adventure stories about outlaws and bandits, full of sword fights and chases and kung fu. When I told Ron about it, he said it was worth learning Chinese to read those books. I bet anything he'd do it, someday.
When Nainai saw me come in, she smiled and put the book down. “Ready to try on your costume, Fiona?” she asked.
She opened her suitcase and carefully took out theshiny silk jacket and trousers. Seeing the jacket unfolded, I caught my breath again. Against the green silk material, the embroidered
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