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.]