"Whoever you be, I've a gun in my hand here!" he announced.
"We are two travellers by the mail coach," Mr. Noy announced; "one a clergyman and the other an officer in the King's service."
"You don't tell me the coach is upset?"
"And one of us has a broken collar-bone, and craves shelter in Christian charity. What's the name of this parish?"
"Hey?" The man broke off to silence the noise of his dogs.
"What's the name of this parish?"
"Braddock."
"I thought so. Then mine is Noy—Timothy Noy—and I'm your rector. Weren't you expecting me?"
"Indeed, sir, if you're Mr. Noy, the Squire had word you might be coming down this week; and 'twas I, as churchwarden, that posted your name on the church door. If you'll wait a moment, sir—the coach upset, you say!"
He disappeared from the window, and we heard him shouting to awaken the household. By-and-by the door was unchained and he admitted us, exclaiming again, "The coach upset, you say, sir!"