“I board at the house there. I returned home late and was thirsty. I came here for water to drink.”
Her temper died down as suddenly as it had flamed, and she seemed given up to a miserable, shamed trepidation.
“Oh,” she said, “don't ye tell 'em—don't—I—I'm Dusk Dunbar.”
Then, as was very natural, he became curious and possibly did smile—a very little.
“What in the name of all that is fantastic are you doing?”
She made an effort at being defiant and succeeded pretty well.
“I wasn't doin' no harm,” she said. “I was—dressin' up a bit. It aint nobody's business.”
“That's true,” he answered coolly. “At all events it is not mine—though it is rather late for a lady to be alone at such a place. However, if you have no objection, I will get what I came for and go back.”
She said nothing when he stepped down and filled the gourd, but she regarded him with a sort of irritable watchfulness as he drank.
“Are ye—are ye a-goin' to tell?” she faltered, when he had finished.