“Well, that beats all!”
“And you never wrote it?”
“Not I!”
“But he took your spurs, for I saw them in his hand.”
Phil glanced about him.
“Yes!––I guess he has taken my spurs.”
“My, but I’m the foolish woman. I never heard tell o’ the like o’ it before. This place is gettin’ as bad as the ceety o’ Glesca.”
“What was the man like, Mrs. Clunie?”
“Oh, just a wee, short kind o’ a rough lookin’, dirty kind o’ a mannie, wi’ a horse.”
“What kind of a horse did he have?”