They were coming to it now.
Roddy and she, crouching beside each other on the hearthrug in the drawing-room, waited till it should be over. Through the shut doors they could still distinguish Uncle Edward's smooth, fat voice from Uncle Victor's thin one. The booming and baying were the noises made by Farmer Alderson.
"I can't think what they want to drag him in for," Roddy said. "It'll only make it more unpleasant for them."
Roddy's eyes had lost their fear; they were fixed in a wise, mournful stare. He stared at his fate.
"They don't know yet quite how imbecile I am. If I could have gone out quietly by myself they never need have known. Now they'll have to. Alderson'll tell them. He'll tell everybody…. I don't care. It's their own look-out. They'll soon see I was right."
"Listen," she said.
The dining-room door had opened. Uncle Edward's voice came out first, sounding with a sort of complacent finality. They must have settled it. You could hear Farmer Alderson stumping his way to the front door. His voice boomed from the step.
"Ah doan't saay, look ye, 'e'll mak mooch out of en t' farst ye-ear—"
"Damn him, you can hear his beastly voice all over the place."
"Ef yore yoong mon's dead set to larn fa-armin', an' ef 'e've got a head on 'is shoulders our Jem can larn 'en. Ef 'e 'aven't, ah tall yo stra-aight, Mr. Ollyveer, ye med joost's well tak yore mooney and trow it in t' mistal."