“Tim, Tim,” said Mrs. Bumpkin, “down, Tim! hold thee noise, I tell ee.”
“Good Tim!” said Joe; he also had an instinct.
“I’ll goo and see what it be,” said Mrs. Bumpkin; “whoever can come here at this time o’ night! it be summat, Tom.” And she put down her stockings, and lighting a candle went to the front door, whereat there was a loud knocking. Tim jumped and flew and thrust his nose down to the bottom of the door long before Mrs. Bumpkin could get there.
“Quiet, Tim! I tell thee; who be there?”
“From Mr. Prigg’s,” answered a voice.
This was enough for Tim; the name of Prigg made him furious.
“Somebody from Mr. Prigg, Tom.”
“Wull, let un in, Nance; bless thee soul, let un in; may be the case be settled. I hope they ain’t took less
nor a hundred pound. I told un not to.” The door was unbolted and unbarred, and a long time it took, and then stood before Mrs. Bumpkin a tall pale youth.
“I’ve come from Mr. Prigg.”