“Shut that doo-er!” bawled Morel furiously.
Annie banged it behind her, and was gone.
“If tha oppens it again while I’m weshin’ me, I’ll ma’e thy jaw rattle,” he threatened from the midst of his soap-suds. Paul and the mother frowned to hear him.
Presently he came running out of the scullery, with the soapy water dripping from him, dithering with cold.
“Oh, my sirs!” he said. “Wheer’s my towel?”