Judith went to the pantry.
“Dannie,” my uncle inquired, leaning eagerly close when she was gone from the room, “is ye been good?”
’Twas a question put in anxious doubt: I hesitated––wondering whether or not I had been good.
“Isn’t ye?” says he. “Ye’ll tell me, won’t ye? I’ll love ye none the less for the evil ye’ve done.”
Still I could not answer.
“I’ve been wantin’ t’ know,” says he, his three-fingered fist softly beating the table, shaking in an intense agitation of suspense. “I’ve been waitin’ an’ waitin’ for months––jus’ t’ hear ye say!”
I was conscious of no evil accomplished.
“Ye’ve a eye, Dannie!” says he.
I exposed my soul.