“Then what doth he abroad at so unseasonable an hour, pray?”
“Abroad, your honour? Where, sir?”
“Coming up the street—demme! There he is!” exclaimed Sir John pettishly, as a loud whistle shrilled beneath the window.
“Aye, that will be Sir Hector, your honour.”
“Well, I’ll not see him! Confound everything, I say, I’ll not be pestered, Bob!”
“Oho, John ... Johnnie ... ocheigh!”
Sir John promptly closed the window, whereupon Sir Hector’s voice rose but the louder:
“Oho, John ... wull ye no loot me ben?”
“Damme, but he’ll rouse the village!” cried Sir John.
“Shall I go down and let him in, your honour?”