"Yes, mebbe you're right," observed Granny Meehan. "And the Lord forgive me for speakin' ill of my neighbors! But it's all out of my anxiety for Miss Winifred. The baubles may come not from the powers of darkness at all, but from the 'good people'; and that would be harmless enough, anyhow."
"In America we have no fairies—or good people, as you call them," I said jestingly.
"They tell me they're scarce enough in Ireland these days," Mrs. Meehan replied gravely. "It's only here among the hills we have them at all, at all."
"I am afraid I should have to see to believe," I said, laughing. "And now, Mrs. Meehan, in all our talk you have not told me who the schoolmaster is."
A deadly paleness overspread the old woman's face, and she sank back into the chair.
"The Lord between us and harm!" she muttered, "don't ask me that,—don't now, asthore!"
"But you know."
"Is it I know?" she cried. "Is it I would be pryin' into such things?"
I was more puzzled than ever. There was actual terror in Granny's tone.