The oak room's not for you this night, Squire.

It's hoping to get you there that's keeping them quiet." "Tell us what you mean, Middleton," the lawyer asked, with ill-assumed indifference, "when you spoke of the howling of Roger Unthank's spirit ?" The old man turned patiently around.
"Just that, sir," he replied.

"It's round the house most weeks.

Except for me odd nights, and Mrs.Unthank, there's been scarcely a servant would sleep in the Hall for years.

Some of the maids they do come up from the village, but back they go before nightfall, and until morning there isn't a living soul would cross the path--no, not for a hundred pounds." "A howl, you call it ?" Mr.Mangan observed.
"That's mostly like a dog that's hurt itself," Middleton explained equably, "like a dog, that is, with a touch of human in its throat, as we've all heard in our time, sir.