human
Say you?--Jones? Why in thunder don't you open the door?
gpt
Who's there?
human
Why, me, of course; Barker, Jones's partner. I want to see Jones!
gpt
What Jones do you want?
human
Jones, of Rochester, of course, yelled Fox.
gpt
Two ship-loads of spoiled grain's just come in; don't know what to do with 'em.
human
Sink 'em!
gpt
Where's Jones?
human
There's no Jones here, you fool!
gpt
Yes there is, too, insisted Fox.
human
Landlord told me so.
gpt
Well, parried the female, raising her voice again,
human
Jones ain't in the wheat trade at all; he's a professor of music; and besides that, he ain't in here, either.
gpt
Oh, beg pardon, ma'am, said Fox apologetically,
human
It isn't your Jones I want _this time_, then. Hope I haven't disturbed you, madam,
gpt
To which he cheerily responded,
human
No offence meant, ma'am; 'fraid the wheat'd spoil, ye see; and as he went whistling down the stairs, she slammed the door, locked it, drew the trembling Le Compte from under the bed, and amid a chime of crockery set him upon his feet again with a snap to it, and then threw herself into a rocking-chair and burst into tears, insisting that she was the most abused woman on the face of earth, and that Le Compte, with his
gpt
and