HANNAH.
The hill!
NOAH.
Ah, what d"ye think I"ve put off taking my man to Durnstone to now for? Why, I"m a goin" to get a glimpse of the racin", on my way over.
[_Opening the wicket in the cell door and looking in._] There he is!
Sulky! [_To HANNAH._] Hopen the hoven door, "Annah, and let the smell of the cookin" get into him.
HANNAH.
Oh, no, Noah--it"s torture!
NOAH.
Do as I tell"ee. [_She opens the oven door._] Torture! Of course it"s torture! That"s my rule! Whenever I get a "old of a darned obstinate creature wot won"t reveal his hindent.i.ty I hopens the hoven door.
[_He goes out into the street, and as he departs, the woful face of THE DEAN appears at the wicket, his head being still enveloped in the fur cap._
HANNAH.
[_Shutting the oven door._] Not me! Torturing prisoners might a" done for them Middling Ages what Noah"s always clattering about, but not for my time o" life. I"ll shut that wicket. [_Crossing close to the wicket, her face almost comes against THE DEAN"S. She gives a cry._]
The Dean!
THE DEAN.
Oh!
[_He disappears._
HANNAH.
Oh, no! Not my old master! Never the master! [_Tottering to the wicket and looking in._] Master! Look at me! It"s "Annah, your poor faithful servant, "Annah!
[_The face of THE DEAN re-appears._
THE DEAN.
[_In a deep sad voice._] Hannah Evans.
HANNAH.
It"s "Annah Topping, Knee Evans, wife o" the Constable what"s goin" to take you to cruel Durnstone. [_Sinking weeping upon the ground at the door._] Oh, Mr. Dean, sir, what have you been up to? What have you been up to? What have you been up to?
THE DEAN.
Woman, I am the victim of a misfortune only partially merited.
HANNAH.
[_On her knees, clasping her hands._] Tell me what you"ve done, Master dear; give it a name, for the love of goodness
THE DEAN.
My poor Hannah, I fear I have placed myself in an equivocal position.
HANNAH.
[_With a shriek of despair._] Ah!
THE DEAN.
Be quiet, woman!
HANNAH.
Is it a change o" cooking that"s brought you to such ways? I cooked for you for seven "appy years!
THE DEAN.
[_Sniffing._] Alas! you seem to have lost none of your culinary skill.
HANNAH.
Master, are you hungry?
THE DEAN.
I am sorely tried by your domestic preparations.
HANNAH.
[_With clenched hands and a determined look._] Oh! [_Quickly locking and bolting the street door._] Noah can"t put that brute of a horse to under ten minutes. The dupplikit key o" the Strong Box! [_Producing a large key, with which she unlocks the cell door._] Master, you"ll give me your patrol not to cut, won"t you?
THE DEAN.
Under any other circ.u.mstances, Hannah, I should resent that insinuation.
HANNAH.
Don"t resent nothing! Shove! Shove your hardest, Dean dear!
[_Pulling the door which opens sufficiently to let out THE DEAN._
THE DEAN.
[_As he enters the room._] Good day, Hannah; you have bettered yourself, I hope?