"Give me a match!" Angus roared through this wealth of personal description, despairing of making his want known otherwise. "I want a match, that's all."
"A match?" the lady exclaimed.
"Sure, to light my pipe with," Angus told her. "I'm not a hobo. I'm working the place for Miss Winton."
"And why couldn't ye say so before?" she demanded, frowning at him.
"Because you wouldn't give me a chance. You wouldn't let me get in a word edgeways."
"God save us all, an' maybe I wouldn't then," she admitted. "Is Mackay th' name iv ye? Come in an' sit down. A match, is ut? Here ye are, then."
Angus sat down and lit his pipe, while she stared at him.
"Faix, then, I wouldn't have knowed ye at all, at all," she said.
"Well, you never saw me before."
"Be description, I mane. She said—"