Mary said it again with greater emphasis, and big Bart rubbed the corner of one eye with the back of his hand.
“Tell him, dear Bart, that his sister was true to him all through, and that he must believe me.”
“Ay, lass, I’ll tell him; but don’t call me ‘dear Bart’ again, ’cause I can’t bear it.”
“But you are our friend, and have always been like a brother to us.”
“Ay, lass, I tried to be, and I’ll speak to him again. Bah! you never went again us. You couldn’t. Your tongue thrashed us a bit, as you allus did, but it was for our good. And now, look here, my lass, when we’re gone—”
“When you’re gone, Bart!” cried Mary, with her lip quivering.
“Ay, lass, when we’re gone, for I daresay they’ll hang us.”
“Bart!”
“Oh, it won’t hurt much. Not worse than being drownded, and much quicker.”
“Oh, Bart, Bart!”