‘The what, brother?’ said Ursula, starting from her seat.
‘Why, the lubbeny; don’t you—’
‘I tell you what, brother,’ said Ursula, looking somewhat pale, and speaking very low, ‘if I had only something in my hand, I would do you a mischief.’
‘Why, what is the matter, Ursula?’ said I; ‘how have I offended you?’
‘How have you offended me? Why, didn’t you insinivate just now that I was ready to play the—the—’
‘Go on, Ursula.’
‘The—the—I’ll not say it; but I only wish I had something in my hand.’
‘If I have offended, Ursula, I am very sorry for it; any offence I may have given you was from want of understanding you. Come, pray be seated, I have much to question you about—to talk to you about.’
‘Seated, not I! It was only just now that you gave me to understand that you was ashamed to be seated by me, a thief, a liar.’
‘Well, did you not almost give me to understand that you were both, Ursula?’