!" he exclaimed, with nothing but curiosity on his
wrinkled dried tobacco-leaf-looking face. He expressed no resentment on
account of my behaviour to him.

"Are ye to be married soon? Has he got any prawperty? Who is he? I
suppose he's respectable. Ye're very young."

"Yes; he is renowned for respectability, but I am not going to marry him
till I am twenty-one. He is poor, but has good prospects. You must
promise me not to tell anyone, as I wish it kept a secret, and only
mention it to you so that you need not be disturbed about Peter."

He assured me that he would keep the secret, and I knew I could rely on
his word. He was greatly perturbed that my intended was poor.

"Never ye marry a man widout a bit er prawperty, me gu-r-r-r-l. Take my
advice--the divil's in a poor match, no matter how good the man may be.
Don't ye he in a hurry; ye're personable enough in yer way, and there's as
good fish in the seas as ever come out of 'em. Yer very small; I admire a
good lump of a woman meself--but don't ye lose heart. I've heerd some men
say they like little girls, but, as I said, I like a good lump of a woman
meself."

"And you've got a good lump of a squaw," I thought to myself.

Do not mistake me. I do not for an instant fancy myself above the
M'Swats. Quite the reverse; they are much superior to me. Mr M'Swat was
upright and clean in his morals, and in his little sphere was as sensible
and kind a man as one could wish for. Mrs M'Swat was faithful to him,
contented and good-natured, and bore uncomplainingly, year after year,
that most cruelly agonising of human duties--childbirth, and did more for
her nation and her Maker than I will ever be noble enough to do.

But I could not help it that their life was warping my very soul. Nature
fashions us all; we have no voice in the matter, and I could not change
my organisation to one which would find sufficient sustenance in the
mental atmosphere of Barney's Gap.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Ta-Ta to Barney's Gap

It chanced at last, as June gave place to July and July to August, that I
could bear it no longer. I would go away even if I had to walk, and what
I would do I did not know or care, my one idea being to leave Barney's
Gap far and far behind. One evening I got a lot of letters from my little
brothers and sisters at home. I fretted over them a good deal, and put
them under my pillow; and as I had not slept for nights, and was feeling
weak and queer, I laid my