We ate a hasty breakfast that first morning, and prepared to go out for a walk into the great unknown, perhaps the most pleasurable sensation in the world. Francesca was ready first, and, having mentioned the fact several times ostentatiously, she went into the drawing-room to wait and read the Scotsman. When we went thither a few minutes later we found that she had disappeared. “She is below, of course,” said Salemina. “She fancies that we shall feel more ashamed at our tardiness if we find her sitting on the hall bench in silent martyrdom.” There was no one in the hall, however, save Susanna, who inquired if we would see the cook before going out. “We have no time now, Susanna,” I remarked. “We are anxious to have a walk before the weather changes, if possible, but we shall be out for luncheon and in for dinner, and Mrs. M'Collop may give us anything she pleases. Do you know where Miss Francesca is?” “I cudna s---” “Certainly, of course you couldn't; but I wonder if Mrs. M'Collop saw her?” Mrs. M'Collop appeared from the basement, and vouchsafed the information that she had seen 'the young leddy rinnin' after the regiment.' “Running after the regiment!” repeated Salemina automatically. “What a reversal of the laws of nature? Why, in Berlin, it was always the regiment that used to run after her!” We learned in what direction the soldiers had gone, and pursuing the same path found the young lady on the corner of a street near by. She was quite unabashed. “You don't know what you have missed!” she said excitedly. “Let us get into this tram, and possibly we can head them off somewhere. They may be going into battle, and if so, my heart's blood is at their service. It is one of those experiences that come only once in a lifetime. There were pipes and there were kilts! (I didn't suppose they ever really wore them outside of the theatre!) When you have seen the kilts swinging, Salemina, you will never be the same woman afterwards! You never expected to see the Olympian gods walking, did you? Perhaps you thought they always sat on practicable rocks and made stiff gestures, from the elbow, as they do in the Wagner operas? Well, these gods walked, if you can call the inspired gait a walk! If there is a single spinster left in Scotland, it is because none of these ever asked her to marry him. Ah, how grateful I ought to be that I am free to say 'yes', if a kilt ever asks me to be his! Poor Penelope, yoked to your commonplace trousered Beresford! (I wish the tram would go faster!) You must capture one of them, by fair means or foul, Penelope, and Salemina and I will hold him down while you paint him,--there they are, they are there somewhere, don't you hear them?”