Fitz. “Waiter.”
“Yes, sar.”
“Who have you in the house?”
“Fust of company, sar;—alwaist, sar.”
“Oh! of course;—any one in particular?”
“Yes, sar, very particular: one gentleman very particular, indeed. Has his bed warmed with brown sugar in the pan, and drinks asses’ milk, sar, for breakfast!”
“Strange fellow! but I mean any one of name?”
“Yes, sar, a German, sar; with a name so long, sar, it take all the indoor servants and a stable-helper to call him up of a morning.”
“You don’t understand me. Have you any public people here?”
“Yes, sar—great man from town, sar—belongs to the Theatre—Mr. Fitzflam, sar—quite the gentleman, sar.”