"You must not link yourself with that Bill Kisseck and his Curragh gang."
A puzzled look crossed Christian's face.
"Oh, I know their doings, don't you doubt it," said the girl.
"What do you know of Bill Kisseck?" said Christian with some perceptible severity. "Tell me, Mona, what harm do you know of Bill and his—his gang, as you call them?"
"I know this—I know they'll be in Castle Rushen one of these fine days."
Christian looked relieved. With a cold smile he said, "I dare say you're right, Mona. They are a rough lot, the Curragh fellows; but no harm in them that I know of."
"Harm!" Mona had started the loom afresh, but she stopped once more. "Harm!" she exclaimed again. Then in a quieter way, "Keep away from them, Christian. You've seen too much of them of late."
Christian started.
"Oh, I know it. But you can't touch pitch—you mind the old saying."
Mona had again started the loom, and was rattling at the levers with more than ordinary energy. Christian watched her for a minute with conflicting feelings. He felt that his manhood was being put to a severe strain. Therefore, assuming as much masculine superiority of manner as he could command, he said: