"That's a lie, my lad."
Then the man's footsteps went off in dull beats on the snow-clotted pebbles.
After a moment's silence there was a soft knocking; Davy had crept up to the door.
"Mastha Dan," he whispered, amid panting breath.
Dan did not stir. The latch was lifted in vain.
"Mastha Dan, Mastha Dan." The soft knocking continued.
Dan found his voice at last.
"Go away, Davy—go away," he said, hoarsely.
There was a short pause, and then there came from without an answer like a sob.
"I'm going, Mastha Dan."