O Sir, Sir——no, no, Mr. Burroughs—no, no.
Why what on earth can possess you Bridget Pope?—what on earth is the matter with you?—what are you afraid of?
O Lord Sir—I hope it is you!
Who else can it be?—don’t you see me?—don’t you hear me speak?—O I’m ashamed of you, such a great girl, to be afraid of a——
Who else?—how should I know Sir? and if I knew, I should be afraid to say; but I don’t know Sir, I don’t indeed Sir—and how should I, pray, when I never saw you before to night—
Never saw me before to night!
No Sir, never—never—
Are you out of your head Bridget Pope?—never saw me before?
No Sir—never, never—I wish I may die if I ever did, though others have—your shape I mean Sir—but I would never allow they told the truth about you when they—O, Abigail, Abigail!
Did you speak to me, Bridgy Pope?