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!