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“Is there nobody inside to open the door?” I hallooed

“They’s nobbut t’ missis; and shoo’ll nut oppen ’t an ye mak yer
flaysome dins till neeght.”

“Why? Cannot you tell her who I am, eh, Joseph?”
“Nor-ne me! Aw’ll hae noa hend wi’t,” muttered the head,

The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay
another trial, when a young man without coat, and shouldering a
pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow
him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area
containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cote, we at length
arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was
formerly received. It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an
immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the
table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe
the ‘missis’, an individual whose existence I had never previously
suspected. I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a
seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained
motionless and mute.

“Rough weather!” I remarked. “I’m afraid, Mrs. Heathcliff, the
door must bear the consequence of your servants’ leisure
attendance; I had hard work to make them hear me!”

She never opened her mouth. I stared--she stared also. At any
rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner,
exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.

“Sit down,” said the young man gruffly. “He’ll be in soon.”
I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who
deigned, at this second interview, to move the extreme tip of her

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