“Trath, is it. And so is iverything in these times, exciptin’ yez own swate silf; that I hope will niver be sthrange in a cyabin frequinted by Phaylim Onale. Shure, now, I’m glad to see yez, miss; an shure so wud the masther, if—”
“Dear Phelim! tell me all that has happened.”
“Trath! thin miss, if I’m to till all, ye’ll hiv to take off your bonnet, and make up your moind for a long stay—seein’ as it ’ut take the big ind av a whole day to relate all the quare things that’s happened since the day afore yesthirday.”
“Who has been here since then?”
“Who has been heeur?”
“Except the—the—”
“Exceptin’ the man-wuman, ye mane?”
“Yes. Has any one else been to this place?”
“Trath has thare—plinty besoides. An av all sorts, an colours too. First an foremost there was wan comin’ this way, though he didn’t git all the way to the cyabin. But I daren’t tell you about him, for it moight frighten ye, miss.”
“Tell me. I have no fear.”