Two of you had better come with me to the shed.

It's no night for a man to be wandering about alone." He departed, and many of the villagers with him.

The landlady sat down and began to weep.
"Such a night! Such a night!" she exclaimed, wringing her hands.

"And there's the doctor talks about putting the poor gentleman to bed! Why, the roof's off the back part of the house, and not a bedroom in the place but mine and John's, and the rain coming in there in torrents.
Such a night! It's the judgment of the Lord upon us! That's what it is--the judgment of the Lord!" "Judgment of the fiddlesticks!" her husband growled.

"Can't you light the fire, woman?
What's the good of sitting there whining ?" "Light the fire," she repeated bitterly, "and the chimney lying out in the road! Do you want to suffocate us all, or is the beer still in your head?
It's your evil doings, Richard Budden, and others like you, that have brought this upon us.