But seein' as 'taint arf-past ten yet, an' I aint naggin' nobody nor interferin' with my neighbours nohow, I reckon I'm on the right side o' the night so fur." A murmur of approving laughter from all the men about him ratified this speech.

The Reverend Mr.Arbroath gave a gesture of disdain, and bent his lowering looks on Tom o' the Gleam.
"Aren't you wanted by the police ?" he suggested sarcastically.
The handsome gypsy glanced him over indifferently.
"I shouldn't wonder!" he retorted.

"Perhaps the police want me as much as the devil wants _you_!" Arbroath flushed a dark red, and his lips tightened over his teeth vindictively.
"There's a zummat for tha thinkin' on, Pazon Arbroath!" said "Feathery" Joltram, suddenly rising from his chair and showing himself in all his great height and burly build.

"Zummat for a zermon on owd Nick, when tha're wantin' to scare the zhoolboys o' Zundays!" Mr.Arbroath's countenance changed from red to pale.
"I was not aware of your presence, Mr.Joltram," he said stiffly.
"Noa, noa, Pazon, m'appen not, but tha's aweer on it now.

Nowt o' me's zo zmall as can thraw to heaven through tha straight and narrer way.