"Art tha a Papist?" she gasped.
"No—not yet."
"Art tha," Janey asked, breathlessly,—"art tha goin' to be?"
"I don't know."
"An' tha—tha does na believe what Mester Hixon says?"
"No—not yet."
"What does tha believe?"
She stared up at the dark young face aghast. It was quite unmoved. The girl's eyes were fixed on space.
"Nothing."
"Wheer—wheer does tha expect to go when tha dees?"