"Oh, go to sleep," I said; "there is nothing wrong."
"But what is that dreadful noise?" she persisted.
"Well, it is only the gentlemen going to bed," said I.
Just then, sounds came through the door, which showed that they were
close outside. Somebody--so far as I could guess from what we heard--
was determined to sit down on the stairs, and Sam was trying to prevail
upon him to go quietly to bed. All sorts of queer things were mixed up
with it--hunting cries, bits of songs, invectives against Hanoverians
and Dissenters, and I scarcely know what else.
"Who is that wretched creature?" whispered Flora to me.