"Matter? Oh, my lady, nothing du be the matter wi' I."
"But your face is white, child, and your eyes look red from crying. Is there anything wrong, Betty? Have you seen your grandmother and is she still angry with you?"
"I bain't seen her, my—my lady, and I du not care whether her be still angry wi' me or not—for it be all the same to I."
"You shouldn't say that, child."
"For never, never will I marry Abram, my—my lady, never will I. Sooner would I drownd myself in the river, which I would du gaily, aye gaily, my lady, than—than marry Abram who I never could abide."
Kathleen smiled. "There need be no talk of that now, Betty, surely?"
"No, my lady, but I can't help thinking about it, specially when I du see Abram loitering about the green gate, my lady, and know he du be waiting for I."
"Then I will see that he is not permitted to loiter there, as you dislike him so much, Betty."
"I hate him, I du, I hate him mortally, my lady, I du. Oh, my lady, his hands du be terribul, terribul; if 'ee did see 'em they would make you shudder like they do I."
"But perhaps you dislike this poor Abram so much, Betty, because there is someone else?" Kathleen asked. "Is that the truth, my little maid?"