“Poor boy! Poor boy! it's bitten he is, for sure.” “Then it's yourself that's bitten me. Kirry----” There was a little crow of gaiety. “Me? Am I the witch? You called me a fairy in the road this evening.” “A fairy you are, girl, and a witch too; but listen, now----” “You said I was an angel, though, at the cowhouse gable; and an angel doesn't bite.” Then she barked like a dog, and laughed a shrill laugh like a witch, and barked again. But Pete could bear no more. “Go on, then; go on with your capers! Go on!” he cried, in a voice of reproach. “It's not a heart that's at you at all, girl, but only a stone. You see a man going away from the island----” “From the island?” Kate gasped. “Middling down in the mouth, too, and plagued out of his life between the ruck of you,” continued Pete; “but God forgive you all, you can't help it.” “Did you say you were going out of the island, Pete?” “Coorse I did; but what's the odds? Africa, Kimberley, the Lord knows where----” “Kimberley! Not Kimberley, Pete!” “Kimberley or Timbuctoo, what's it matter to the like of you? A man's coming up in the morning to bid you good-bye before an early sailing, and you're thinking of nothing but your capers and divilments.” “It's you to know what a girl's thinking, isn't it, Mr. Pete? And why are you flying in my face for a word?” “Flying? I'm not flying. It's driven I am.” “Driven, Pete?” “Driven away by them that's thinking I'm not fit for you. Well, that's true enough, but they shan't be telling me twice.” “They? Who are they, Pete?” “What's the odds? Flinging my mother at me, too--poor little mother! And putting the bastard on me, it's like. A respectable man's girl isn't going begging that she need marry a lad without a name.” There was a sudden ejaculation from the window-sash. “Who dared to say that?” “No matter.” “Whoever they are, you can tell them, if it's me they mean, that, name or no name, when I want to marry I'll marry the man I like.” “If I thought that now, Kitty----” “As for you, Mr. Pete, that's so ready with your cross words, you can go to your Kimberley. Yes, go, and welcome; and what's more--what's more----” But the voice of anger, in the half light overhead, broke down suddenly into an inarticulate gurgle. “Why, what's this?” said Pete in a flurry. “You're not crying though, Kate? Whatever am I saying to you, Kitty, woman? Here, here--bash me on the head for a blockhead and an omathaun.” And Pete was clambering up the wall by the side of the dairy window. “Get down, then,” whispered Kate. Her wrath was gone in a moment, and Pete, being nearer to her now, could see tears of laughter dancing in her eyes. “Get down, Pete, or I'll shut the window, I will--yes, I will.” And, to show how much she was in earnest in getting out of his reach, she shut up the higher sash and opened the lower one. “Darling!” cried Pete. “Hush! What's that?” Kate whispered, and drew back on her knees.