ROGERS. Well, I'm . . .

'Owever, it's no business of mine!

MARY [brightly]. What's up with you, Rogers?

ROGERS [with reservation]. 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.]