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246
WUTHERING HEIGHTS.
He hesitated, and then snatched it from my hold, as if he fancied I only intended to tempt, and disappoint him.
I showed another keeping it out of his reach.
"Who has taught you those fine words, my barn," I inquired. "The curate?"
"Damn the curate, and thee! Gie me that," he replied.
"Tell us where you got your lessons, and you shall have it," said I. "Whose your master?"
"Devil daddy," was his answer.
"And what do you learn from Daddy?" I continued.
He jumped at the fruit; I raised it higher. "What does he teach you?" I asked.
"Naught," said he, "but to keep out of his gait—Daddy cannot bide me, because I swear at him."
"Ah! and the devil teaches you to swear at Daddy?" I observed.
"Aye—nay," he drawled.
