"Because I think such dreadful things when I'm in the dark, and I get so dreadfully, dreadfully frightened, Fardie, lest those wicked men might kill you!"
The last words came out in a low tone, as though she feared that uttering them might make what she dreaded more probable, and putting her other arm up round her father's neck she clung to him tightly.
"Who let you hear of such things?" exclaimed Mr. Plunkett, in the stern voice that Murtagh knew well.
"Mother often cries when you're out," said Marion; "and she says perhaps you'll be brought in dead! But, Fardie, you mustn't, because I couldn't bear it!"
Mr. Plunkett did not speak immediately; then he said:
"My little daughter, you mustn't mind everything you hear people say, but if such a thing ever did happen, you will be my own brave child, won't you?—and you will like to think afterwards that your father died at his work!"
"No, no, Fardie, I couldn't be brave then!" cried Marion. "I couldn't stay alive with only mother! You won't let them do it? Promise, father!"
At that moment "mother's" voice made itself heard, calling: "Marion, Marion, come in! How could you keep her out so late, James?"
"No, no, my pet; they shan't do it if I can help it!" replied Mr. Plunkett, kissing her and hastily setting her down. "Now put all such ideas out of your head, and run in to your mother; she's calling you."
The child went slowly away and Mr. Plunkett looking after her said sadly: