Scrub. Because he keeps his horses always ready saddled, and his footman talks French.
Mrs. Sul. His footman! [70]
Scrub. Ay, he and the count's footman were jabbering French like two intriguing ducks in a mill-pond; and I believe they talked of me, for they laughed consumedly.
Dor. What sort of livery has the footman?
Scrub. Livery! Lord, madam, I took him for a captain, he's so bedizzened with lace! And then he has tops to his shoes, up to his mid leg, a silver-headed cane dangling at his knuckles; he carries his hands in his pockets just so—[walks in the French air.—and has a fine long periwig tied up in a bag. —Lord, madam, he's clear another sort of man than I! [83]
Mrs. Sul. That may easily be.—But what shall we do now, sister?
Dor. I have it—this fellow has a world of simplicity, and some cunning, the first hides the latter by abundance.—Scrub!
Scrub. Madam!
Dor. We have a great mind to know who this gentleman is, only for our satisfaction.
Scrub. Yes, madam, it would be a satisfaction, no doubt.