’Tis a lass,” Bowen said, nodding his head in the direction of the distant yellowish blob. Graeme strained forward again. “How can you tell at this distance?” Bowen gave them both mocking glances and then shook his head in dismay. “Think you any men run around in yellow dresses?” Teague lifted his eyebrow. “Well, ’tis the Armstrongs, so I suppose anything could be possible.”
