“Killcrichtoun, Pina.”
“Well, Killchristians, ma’am; it’s all the same, only worse, because of course it is much more devilisher, begging your pardon, ma’am, to kill Christians than it is to do to common people. Any ways, up he comes.”
“And——What then? Go on.”
“I didn’t go in, ma’am, though I was minded to. I did as you directed me to do on such occasions. I stopped and made a curtsy, and handed little Lenny forward so as to place him in front of me facing of his father. And says he:
“‘How do you do, Pina? When did you arrive? Whom did you come with?’
“And then, without waiting for me to answer them questions, he lifted up little Lenny in his arms, and says he:
“‘Whose child is this?’ And says I, ‘He is General Lyon’s grandnephew, sir, if you please;’ for I was sure all the time he knowed well enough it was his own.
“‘I didn’t ask you whose nephew he is; I asked you whose child he is.’
“‘The same child whose hair you cut, sir, please,’ I answered.
“‘Bosh, girl, you trifle with me! Whose son is he?’