the goblet to the secret shelf, put back the drawer, and shut the
ambry door. "Friends trust one another in little and big.--Now let's
go see Aunt Alison."

They went in silence along a corridor where every footfall was subdued
in India matting. Alexander spoke once:

"I feel all through me that we're friends. But you're a terrible fool
there!"

"I am not," said Ian. His voice carried the truth of his own feeling.
"I am like my father and mother and the chieftains my kin, and I have
been with certain kings ever since there were kings. Others think
otherwise, but I've got my rights!"

With that they came to the open door of a room. A voice spoke from
within:

"Ian!"

Ian crossed the threshold. "May we come in, Aunt Alison? It's
Alexander Jardine of Glenfernie."

A tall, three-leaved screen pictured with pagodas, palms, and macaws
stood between the door and the rest of the room. "Come, of course!"
said the voice behind this.

Passing the last pagoda edge, the two entered a white-paneled parlor
where a lady in dove-gray muslin overlooked the unpacking of fine
china. She turned in the great chair where she sat. "I am truly glad