“He's got it, an', Meg, wumman, a' dinna see... ony black on 't.”
Posty looked at his watch, and said aloud:
“A 'll risk the time; it 'ill no tak mair than an 'oor,” and he leaped the dyke.
“Lord's sake, Bogleigh, is that you? A' wes thinkin' o' whuppin' round yir wy the day for a change; in fac,” and Posty's effort at in difference collapsed, “word's come frae Australy.”
“Wull ye... open't for's? ma hand's... no verra steady, an' the gude wife... hesna her glesses.”
“Mr. David Ross,
“Farmer,
“Bogleigh,
“Drumtochty,
“Scotland.”