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Updated: May 8, 2025
Around the whole ran a battered wall, patched with furs; and from this dwelling the screams were issuing "Joan!" the voice began, "Joan Jan Tergagle's a-clawin' my legs Gar-rout, thou hell cat Blast thee, let me zog! Pull'n off Joan Jo-an!" The voice died away into a wail; then broke out in a racket of curses. Joan stepped to the door and flung it wide.
"I bin all acrost that way," said the boot-boy, pointing with his stumpy black forefinger, "and then acrost that way, an' Mister Jenks" Jenks was the gardener "'e've gone about in rings, 'e 'ave. And there ain't no sign nor token, mum, not a sign there ain't." From behind him sounded the voice of the gardener, thrashing among the trees. "Miss Joan!" he roared. "Hi! Miss Jo-an!
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