“I do; but what kept you there so long? and why is your voice tremblin', as if you wor afeard, or did something wrong? Why is your face pale, too?—it's not often so.”
“The Lord save us, Shawn,” replied Grace, attempting to treat those pointed interrogatories with a jocular spirit, “how can you expect me to answer such a catechize as you're puttin' to me at wanst.”
“Answer me, in the mane time,” he replied; “I'll have no doubling, Granua.”
“Has anything vexed you, Shawn?”
“Chorp an diaoul! tell me why you staid so long at the well”—and as he spoke his eyes flashed with resentment and suspicion.
“I didn't stay long at it.”
“I say you did. What kept you?”
“Why, bekaise I didn't hurry myself, but took my time. I was often longer.”
“You were spakin' to some one at the well.”
“Ah, thin, Shawn, who would I be spakin' to?”