“Anan,” muttered Andy, who, although he heard the question, affected not to have done so, and made this an excuse for inserting himself between them and the door.
“I was asking if Mr. Dalton lived here!” cried Jekyl, louder, and staring with some astonishment at the old fellow's manoeuvre.
“Who said he did, eh?” said Andy, with an effort at fierceness.
“Perhaps it 's on the lower story?” asked Onslow.
“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't, then!” was the answer.
“We wish to see him, my good man,” said Jekyl; “or, at least, to send a message to him.”
“Sure! I know well enough what ye want,” said Andy, with a wave of his hand. “'T is n't the first of yer like I seen!”
“And what may that be?” asked Onslow, not a little amused by the blended silliness and shrewdness of the old man's face.
“Ay eh! I know yez well,” rejoined he, shaking his head. “Be off, then, and don't provoke the house! Away wid yez, before the servants sees ye.”
“This is a rare fellow,” said Onslow, who, less interested than his companion about the visit, was quite satisfied to amuse himself with old Andy. “So you 'll not even permit us to send our respects, and ask how your master is?”