"Ay," he said, "she's my auntie Phemie, my mother's half-sister." The man turned on Heritage.
"Where are ye for the day ?" "Auchenlochan," said Dickson hastily.

He was still determined to shake the dust of Dalquharter from his feet.
The innkeeper sensibly brightened.

"Well, ye'll have a fine walk.

I must go in and see about my own breakfast.

Good day to ye, gentlemen." "That," said Heritage as they entered the village street again, "is the first step in camouflage, to put the enemy off his guard." "It was an abominable lie," said Dickson crossly.
"Not at all.