I remember your father and I were staying at the Hydro when old Elliot died, and his son was killed before that, shooting lions or something in Africa, so this Lewis Elliot, who was a nephew, inherited.

We thought we would go and ask if by any chance they wanted to sell the place, so we called in a friendly way, though we didn't know them, of course.

It was old Mrs.
Elliot we saw, and my word, she was cold.

As polite as you like, but as icy as the North Pole.

Your father had some vulgar sayings I couldn't break him off, and he said as we drove out of the lodge gates, 'Well, that old wife gave us our heads in our laps and our lugs to play wi'.'" "Why, mother!" Muriel cried, astonished.