Now he's getting out ours.

Listen to the darn brute! What's HE care who wants to sleep!" His complaint was of the horse, who casually shifted weight with a clink of steel shoes on the worn brick pavement of the street, and then heartily shook himself in his harness, perhaps to dislodge a fly far ahead of its season.

Light had just filmed the windows; and with that the first sparrow woke, chirped instantly, and roused neighbours in the trees of the small yard, including a loud-voiced robin.

Vociferations began irregularly, but were soon unanimous.
"Sleep?
Dang likely now, ain't it!" Night sounds were becoming day sounds; the far-away hooting of freight-engines seemed brisker than an hour ago in the dark.

A cheerful whistler passed the house, even more careless of sleepers than the milkman's horse had been; then a group of coloured workmen came by, and although it was impossible to be sure whether they were homeward bound from night-work or on their way to day-work, at least it was certain that they were jocose.