The Driver. There'll be dry ones at Collander.
The Surly P. (with a snort). At Callander! Much good that is! (With crushing sarcasm.) If I'm to keep dry on this concern, it strikes me I'd better get inside the boot at once!
"Ou aye, ye can get inside the boot if ye've a mind to it."
The Driver (with the air of a man who is making a concession). Ou aye, ye can get inside the boot if ye've a mind to it.
[The coach starts, and is presently stopped at a corner to take up a male and female passenger, who occupy the seats immediately behind the Surly Passenger.
The Female P. (enthusiastically, to her companion). There's dear old Mrs. Macfarlane, come out to see the last of us! Look at her standing out there in the garden, all in the rain. That's what I always say about the Scotch—they are warm-hearted!
[She waves her hand in farewell to some distant object.
Her Companion. That ain't her; that's an old apple-tree in the garden you're waving to. She's keeping in-doors—and shows her sense too.
The Female P. (disgusted). Well, I do think after our being at the farm a fortnight and all, she might——But that's Scotch all over, that is; get all they can out of you, and then, for anything they care——!