Ye're Archibald McCaskie, and ye're travellin' for the firm o' Todd, Sons & Brothers, of Edinburgh.

Ye ken the folk?
They publish wee releegious books, that ye've bin trying to sell for Sabbath-school prizes to the Free Kirk ministers in Skye.' The notion amused Amos, and he relapsed into the sombre chuckle which with him did duty for a laugh.
I put my hat and waterproof in the bag and donned the bowler and the top-coat.

They fitted fairly well.

Likewise the cuffs and collar, though here I struck a snag, for I had lost my scarf somewhere in the Coolin, and Amos, pelican-like, had to surrender the rusty black tie which adorned his own person.

It was a queer rig, and I felt like nothing on earth in it, but Amos was satisfied.
'Mr McCaskie, sir,' he said, 'ye're the very model of a publisher's traveller.