WEASEL. [_Lowering his voice._] When it was night, your honour, what sees I through the chink of the kitchen door in the passage but the three young Ladies lugging along a great bundle, and stopping and panting and puffing? So says I, I’ll see to the bottom of this, so I pops out suddenly and says, ‘Can I help you, Misses?’ quite civil like. But O Sir, how Miss Sophy trembled and turned as white as a lily, and Miss Ratty stamped and sent me to the village--at that hour, your honour, company in the house--the ground covered with frost--I subject to the rheumatics--and what for, d’ye think? to get her twopenceworth of shoe-ribbon, your honour; and when I brought it, would you believe it?--she roared out that it was too narrow and sent me back again.