'Who are you, man, that dare shut my own door in my face?' said the
beldame.
'Toole's my name, Madam,' said the little doctor, with a lofty look and
a bow. 'I have the honour to attend here in a professional capacity.'
'Ho! a village attorney,' cried the fortune-teller, plainly without
having consulted the cards or the planets. 'Well, Sir, you'd better
stand aside, for I am the Widow Nutter, and this is my house; and burn
me, but one way or another, in I'll get.'
'You'd do well to avoid a trespass, Ma'am, and better to abstain from
house breaking; and you may hammer at the knocker till you're tired, but
they'll not let you in,' rejoined Toole. 'And as to you being the Widow
Nutter, Ma'am, that is widow of poor Charles Nutter, lately found
drowned, I'll be glad to know, Ma'am, how you make _that_ out.'
'Stay, Madam, by your leave,' said the cadaverous, large-faced man,
interposing. 'We are here, Sir, to claim possession of this tenement and
the appurtenances, as also of all the money, furniture, and other
chattels whatsoever of the late Charles Nutter; and being denied
admission, we shall then serve certain cautionary and other notices, in
such a manner as the court will, under the circumstances, and in your
presence, being, by your admission, the attorney of Sarah Hearty,
calling herself Nutter--'
'I did not say I was,' said Toole, with a little toss of his chin.
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