“You-all-right thur?” asked Mr. Hall, sharply, again.
The vicar’s voice answered with a curious jerking intonation: “Quite ri-right. 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 speaking 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 tablecloth about,” said Hall.
Mrs. Hall appeared behind the bar. Hall made gestures of silence and invitation. This aroused Mrs. Hall’s wifely opposition. “What yer listenin’ there for, Hall?” she asked. “Ain’t you nothin’ better to do—busy day like this?”