“Thank you kindly, S’Richard. Don’t you be afraid as I won’t do my dooty by you!”
“I won’t, Jerry. Then that’s all, isn’t it?”
“Well, S’Richard, not quite all; there’s your cousin, sir—Mr Mark, sir.”
“Well, what about him?”
“Only this, S’Richard: if you’d speak to him, and tell him as servants ain’t doormats, I should be greatly obliged.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only this, S’Richard, as it’s getting beyond bearing! I don’t want to go complaining to Mr Draycott, sir, but there is bounds to everything! Havin’ all kinds of hard words chucked at you—‘fools’ and ‘idgits’ and ‘jackasses’—and when it comes to boots and hair-brushes, I says as it’s rough enough; but when it’s a soda-water bottle and a plate, I can’t stand it, and I won’t!”
“What had you been doing to annoy my cousin?”
“Nothin’, S’Richard. I just work for him same as I do for my other gentlemen, or for you, sir; and you never threw a bad word at me in your life—let alone boots!”
“Did the things hit you, Jerry?”