Of course, dear 'Annah was a lovin' favorite with heverybody. NOAH. Ay. Well then, as her friends be mian, I'm takin' the liberty, one by one, of gradually droppin' on 'em all. BLORE. [_Getting his hand away._] Dear me! NOAH. And if I catch any old fly a buzzin' round my lady I'll venture to break his 'ead in wi' my staff! HANNAH. Oh, Noah! BLORE. [_Preparing to depart._] I--I merely called to know if hanything had been found hout about the ruffian took in our stables last night! NOAH. Is that your business? BLORE. It--it's my master's business. NOAH. He's the De-an, ain't he? HANNAH. Yes, Noah, of course. NOAH. [_Fiercely._] Shut oop, darlin'. Very well, then--give Mr. Topping's respects to the Dean, and say I'll run up to the Deanery and see him after I've took my man over to Durnstone. BLORE. Thank you--I 'ope the Dean will be at 'ome. Good-day, 'Annah! Good-day, Mr. Topping! [_Offering his hand, into which NOAH significantly places his truncheon. BLORE goes out quickly._ HANNAH. [_Whimpering._] Oh, Noah, Noah, I don't believe as we shall ever get a large circle of friends round us! NOAH. Now then! [_Selecting a pair of handcuffs and examining them critically._] Them'll do. [_Slipping them into his pocket, and turning upon HANNAH suddenly._] 'Annah! HANNAH. Yes, Noahry---- NOAH. Brighten oop, my darlin', the little time you 'ave me at 'ome with you. HANNAH. Yes, Noahry. [_She bustles about and begins to lay the cloth._ NOAH. I'm just a' goin' round to the stable to put old Nick in the cart. HANNAH. Oh, dont'ee trust to Nick, Noah dear--he's such a vicious brute. Kitty's safer in the cart. NOAH. Shut oop, darlin'. Nick can take me on to the edge o' the hill in half the time. 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 hindentity 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!