"Yes! and I would not meet him again for a million of money. Catch him, indeed! that's a good joke! You know the man that was found last winter drowned in a bog hole; they say he was seen struggling with a big black figure on the brink, and that it was John Dillon put him in, and no less!"
"I don't believe in Dillon's ghost—a ghost that shoots and smokes!" retorted Helen scornfully.
"I tell you what, Miss Helen Denis, it is all very fine for you to say, you don't believe this, and you don't believe that—talking is easy. I'd have some respect for your opinion, if you will start off now, alone, and walk to the black gate and back—this," glancing up to the sky, "is just about his time."
"Do leave her alone, Barry," exclaimed Dido, irritably; "why are you two always wrangling with each other? Helen, you are not to think of going."
"Yes!" returned her cousin, rising, "I should like a walk. I'll go, if it is only to prove to you and Katie, that I have more courage in my little finger, than other people have in their whole body."
"Do you mean that for me?" demanded Barry fiercely, rising on his elbow as he spoke.
"If the cap fits, wear it, by all means! You said a moment ago, that you would not face Dillon for a million. I don't care a fig for Dillon,—and I am going to meet him now!"
More than this, she was eager to seize the excuse to have a nice long stroll through the woods by herself, in order that she might arrange her ideas, and meditate at leisure—for thanks to her affectionate cousins, she rarely had a moment alone.
"Do you think you will catch him, or will he catch you?" inquired Barry rudely.
To this she made no reply, and, resisting Katie's eager, almost tearful entreaties, she snatched up a shawl, and sped away across the grass; and, as she did so, Barry shouted after her,—