"It is yourself, Andy, and this young lady, Miss Moira Cameron--Mr.Hepburn--" Andy made reluctant acknowledgment of her smile and bow--"wants to thank you for this fireplace." "It is very beautiful indeed, Mr.Hepburn, and very thankful I am to you for building it." "Aw, it's no that bad," admitted Andy.

"But ye need not thank me." "But you built it ?" "Aye did I.But no o' ma ain wull.

A fireplace is a feckless thing in this country an' I think little o't." "Whose idea was it then ?" "It was yon Smith buddie.

He juist keepit dingin' awa' till A promised if he got the lime--A kent o' nane in the country--A wud build the thing." "And he got the lime, eh, Andy ?" said Dent.
"Aye, he got it," said Andy sourly.

"Diel kens whaur." "But I am sure you did it beautifully, Mr.Hepburn," said Moira, moving closer to him, "and it will be making me think of home." Her soft Highland accent and the quaint Highland phrasing seemed to reach a soft spot in the little Scot.
"Hame?
An' whaur's that ?" he inquired, manifesting a grudging interest.
"Where?
Where but in the best of all lands, in Scotland," said Moira.
"Near Braemar." "Braemar ?" "Aye, Braemar.