Nuthin', miss. [He fetches the tray.]
MARY. Then why look so solemn?
ROGERS [lugubriously]. Ain't lookin' solemn, miss.
MANSON. Hold up the tray, Rogers.
ROGERS. _Am_ 'oldin' it up, Mr. Manson. MARY [loading him up].
I'm sure there is something the matter!
ROGERS. Well, since you arsk me, miss, it's the goin's on in this
'ouse! I never see such a complicyted mass of mysteries and
improbabilities in my life! I shall 'av' to give in my notice!
MARY. Oh, Rogers, that would be dreadful! Why?
MANSON. Now the cloth, Mary . . .
ROGERS. Cos why? _That's_ why!--What you're doin' now! I likes
people to keep their proper stytion! I was brought up
middle-clarss myself, an' taught to be'ave myself before my
betters!--No offence to you, Mr. Manson! [He says this with a jib,
belying his words.]
MARY. Nonsense, Rogers! I like helping.
ROGERS. My poor farver taught me. 'E led a godly, righteous, an'
sober life. 'E was a grocer.
MANSON. Come, Rogers. Take them to the kitchen.
[ROGERS obeys with some asperity of mien.
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