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 circumstances, 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.