The face disappeared with a jerk. I could hear voices. The face reappeared.
'Hi!'
I churned the gravel madly. This blighter was giving me the pip.
'Do you live here?' asked the face.
'I have taken a cottage here for a few weeks.'
'What's your name?'
'Wooster.'
'Fancy that! Do you spell it W-o-r-c-e-s-t-e-r or W-o-o-s-t-e-r?'
'W-o-o—'