at it as a sensible man. Ye're one that's accustomed to a quiet life
and no' meant for rough work. Ye'll do no good if you stay, and, maybe,
ye'll land yourself in bad trouble."

"Mercy on us!" Dickson exclaimed. "What is it you're expecting?
Sinn Fein?"

The innkeeper nodded. "Something like that."

"Did you ever hear the like? I never did think much of the Irish."

"Then ye'll take my advice and go home? Tell ye what, I'll drive
ye to the station."

Dickson got up from the bed, found his new safety-razor and began
to strop it. "No, I think I'll bide. If you're right there'll be
more to see than glaury roads."

"I'm warning ye, fair and honest. Ye...can't...be...allowed.
..to...stay...here!"

"Well I never!" said Dickson. "Is there any law in Scotland,
think you, that forbids a man to stop a day or two with his auntie?"

"Ye'll stay?"

"Ay, I'll stay."

"By God, we'll see about that."