Hal asked the name of his new acquaintance, and she told him it was Mary Burke. “Ye've not been here long, I take it,” she said, “or ye'd have heard of 'Red Mary.' 'Tis along of this hair.” “I've not been here long,” he answered, “but I shall hope to stay now—along of this hair! May I come to see you some time, Miss Burke?”
She did not reply, but glanced at the house where she lived. It was an unpainted, three room cabin, more dilapidated than the average, with bare dirt and cinders about it, and what had once been a picket-fence, now falling apart and being used for stove-wood. The windows were cracked and broken, and upon the roof were signs of leaks that had been crudely patched.
“May I come?” he made haste to ask again—so that he would not seem to look too critically at her home.
“Perhaps ye may,” said the girl, as she picked up the clothes basket. He stepped forward, offering to carry it, but she did not give it up. Holding it tight, and looking him defiantly in the face, she said, “Ye may come, but ye'll not find it a happy place to visit, Mr. Smith. Ye'll hear soon enough from the neighbours.”
“I don't think I know any of your neighbours,” said he.
There was sympathy in his voice; ............