“What will ye wager me, Sassenach, that they’ve settled on a name for yon wee man?” “What odds?” I said, diverted. “And are you betting that they have, or that they haven’t?” “Five to two against. As to stakes…” He glanced round to see that our companions weren’t within hearing distance and lowered his voice. “Your drawers.” My “drawers” were in fact the lower half of a planned pair of flannel pajamas, made with an oncoming winter in mind. “And what on earth would you do with my drawers?” “Burn them.”
