"Here is a ge'man to see you, mum."
And Mr. Brudenell entered.
Hannah looked, dropped the needlework she held in her hand, started up, overturning the chair, and with a stare of consternation exclaimed:
"The Lord deliver us! is it you? And hasn't the devil got you yet, Herman Brudenell?"
"It is I, Hannah," he answered, dropping without invitation into the nearest seat.
"And what on earth have you come for, after all these years?" she asked, continuing to stare at him.
"To see you, Hannah."
"And what in the name of common sense do you want to see me for? I don't want to see you; that I tell you plainly; for I'd just as lief see Old Nick!"
"Hannah," said Herman Brudenell, with an unusual assumption of dignity, "I have come to speak to you about——Are you quite alone?" he suddenly broke off and inquired, cautiously glancing around the room.
"What's that to you? What can you have to say to me that you could not shout from the housetop? Yes, I'm alone, if you must know!"