Nuñ. Pedro Crespo, sir!
Men. Oh—ah—let us turn another way; ’tis an ill-conditioned fellow.
As he turns, enter Juan.
Juan. That I never can come home but this ghost of an Hidalgo is there to spoil my appetite.
Nuñ. His son, sir!
Men. H worse. (Turning back.) Oh, Pedro Crespo, good-day, Crespo, good man, good-day.
[Exit with Nuño.
Cres. Good-day, indeed; I’ll make it bad day one of these days with you, if you do take care. But how now, Juanito, my boy?
Juan. I was looking for you, sir, but could not find you; where have you been?
Cres. To the barn, where high and dry