This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
182
Joan, The Curate.

"Maybe you don't think I shall be as good as my word?"

"I have no reason to doubt that you can be as good as your word when you have promised to do something vile and mischievous!"

Ann snorted with anger.

"Yet you can admire a woman of spirit in the parson's daughter!"

"Spirit! Egad, it needs no spirit to call in half a score of your villainous confederates to make an end to one man."

Ann came up and planted herself before him.

"I wanted no confederates to help me with you. I did propose that task for myself," said she, "in return for the humbling you gave me t'other day in sight of all my friends."

"Ay, so you did. But your pistol missed fire, and I was too quick for you afterwards."

Even as he spoke his taunting words, he saw her hand go quickly towards the cutlass she carried at her side. And he smiled as he sprang up and changed his place to the other settle, thus putting the open trap-door to the cellar below between himself and her.

"Come," said she, frowning and tossing back