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Updated: May 26, 2025
"And the red deer and glens and things it must be lovely." "A've seen graund pictures of a glen," admitted Tam, "but the red deer in Glascae air no' sae plentifu' as they used to be A'm thinkin' the shipyard bummer hae scairt 'em away." She shot a sharp glance at him, then, it seemed for the first time, noticed his stripes. "Oh, you're a sergeant," she said.
"I come from Jackson, Connecticut you've heard of Jackson?" "Oh, aye," he replied. "A'm frae Glascae." "That's Scotland I like the Scotch." Tam blushed and choked. "I came over last year to drive an ambulance in the American Ambulance Section, but they wouldn't have me, so I just went into the English Red Cross." "British," corrected Tam. "I shall say English if I like," she defied him.
Why, mon, we were bakers taegither in Glascae. I could tell him anywhere by his bow-legs, an' he's got a scar on one o' them as big as your face." "Yes, I know he has, where the shell grazed him at Mons." "Shell grazed him at Mons? Shell hell! It was a pan o' hot dough that fell on his leg in the bake-shop, and I'll never forget his yell tae my dyin' day."
"Angus is his second name," said the glib Tam; "we were brought up in the same village, the village of Glascae, and tramped off to the same college at six every morning when the bummer went. There'd we sit, me and Alec." "Angus," suggested Blackie.
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