There were golf capes in the store, tweed ulsters--“Just the thing for a Scotch mist,” said Babbie, shivering in her natty silk rain-coat--beautiful little kilted suits for small boys to wear, and best of all, a proprietor resplendent in full Scotch regalia--kilted skirt, “golf” stockings, green coat, and the insignia of his clan dangling from a belt around his waist.