you don't!" There came a sudden motion and the oversetting of a chair, a brief struggle. Silence again.
"What the dooce?" exclaimed Henfrey, sotto voce.
"You—all—raight—thur?” asked Mr. Hall sharply, again.
The Vicar's voice answered with a curious jerking intonation: "Quite ri—ight. Please don't—interrupt."
"Odd!" said Mr. Henfrey.
"Odd!" said Mr. Hall.
"Says, 'Don't interrupt,'" said Henfrey.
"I heerd 'n," said Hall.
"And a sniff," said Henfrey.
They remained listening. The conversation was rapid and subdued. "I can't," said Mr. Bunting, his voice rising; "I tell you, sir, I will not."
"What was that?" asked Henfrey.
"Says he wi' nart," said Hall. "Warn't speakin' to us, wuz he?"
"Disgraceful!" said Mr. Bunting, within.
"'Disgraceful,'" said Mr. Henfrey. "I heard it—distinct.
"Who's that speaking now?" asked Henfrey.
"Mr. Cuss, I s'pose," said Hall. “Can you hear—anything?"
Silence. The sounds within indistinct and perplexing.
"Sounds like throwing the table-cloth about," said Hall.
Mrs. Hall appeared behind the bar. Hall made gestures of silence and invitation. This roused Mrs. Hall's wifely opposition. "What yer listenin' there
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