“Noa!” said Joseph, giving a thud with his prop on the floor, and assuming an authoritative air. “Noa! that means naught. Hathecliff maks noa ’count o’ t’ mother, nor ye norther; but he’ll heu’ his lad; und I mun tak’ him⁠—soa now ye knaw!”

“You shall not tonight!” answered Linton decisively. “Walk downstairs at once, and repeat to your master what I have said. Ellen, show him down. Go⁠—”

And, aiding the indignant elder with a lift by the arm, he rid the room of him and closed the door.

“Varrah weell!” shouted Joseph, as he slowly drew off. “To-morn, he’s come hisseln, and thrust him out, if ye darr!”