"Is I been unkind, Dannie?"
"No," I sobbed. "'Tis that I've been wicked t' _you_!"
He looked at me with eyes grown very grave. "Ah!" says he, presently,
comprehending. "That's good," says he, in his slow, gentle way.
"That's very good. But ye'll fret no more, will ye, Dannie? An' ye've
growed too old t' cry. Go t' bed, lad. Ye're all wore out. I'll manage
the lamp alone. God bless ye. Go t' bed."