"The thundher, is it? Sure that's only the bluff the storm puts up when the rale harm is done by the lightnin's flash. There is no harm in the thundher at all. And remember, after all, it's the will of God."
Peg thought a moment:
"It always sounds just as if He were lookin' down at us and firin' off cannons at us because He's angry with us."
O'Connell said nothing. Presently he felt her small hand creep into his:
"Father," said Peg; "are yez ralely ashamed of me when I'm frightened like that?"
O'Connell was afraid to unbend lest he broke down altogether. So he continued in a voice of mock severity:
"I am that—when ye cry and moan about what God has been good enough to send us."
"Is it a coward I am for bein' afraid, father?" said Peg, her lips quivering.
"That's what ye are, Peg," replied O'Connell with Spartan severity.
"Then I'll never be one again, father! Never again," and her eyes filled up.