“Oh, Dannie, lad!” cries she, her little hands clasped, a pitiful quaver in her voice, so that I felt consigned to woe, indeed, for this misdoing, “you’ll be a liar as black as––”
There was no more of it.
“You dare not say it!” I taunted.
I did not wish that she should: not I! but still, being a lad, would have her come close enough to sauce the devil. But I would not have her say that word. Indeed, I need not have troubled. ’Twas not in her mind to be so unmaidenly, with a lad at hand to serve her purpose.
“No,” says she, “I dare not; but you, Dannie, bein’ a lad––”
Her voice trailed off expectantly.
“Black as hell?”
She nodded.
“Come, maid,” says I, “you’ve called me a liar.”
“I wasn’t wantin’ to.”