"The Methodee man tould us," said Davy, standing by Jason's side, "and, my gough, but it's mortal cur'ous. What's it saying, 'Talk of the divil, and sure enough it was the big widda man hisself we were talking of, less nor a half hour afore we struck."
"Come, my lass," said Thurstan.
"No, no, I'll stay here," said Greeba.
"But your mother is fidgeting, and this is no place for a slip of a girl—come!"
"I'll stay with him alone," said Jason.
"No, no," cried Greeba.
"It's the lad's right, for all," said old Davy. "He fetched the poor chap out of the water. Come, let's take the road for it."
"Will no one stay instead of me?" said Greeba.
"Where's the use?" said Davy. "He's raelly past help. He's outward bound, poor chap. Poor Orry! Poor ould Stephen!"
Then they drew Greeba away, and with a look of fear fixed on Jason's face she passed out at the door.