“Well, he is a gentleman, in his way,” said Tom. “What wages do you suppose we give him? A hundred a year—quarter in advance—separate meals. He's gettin' his supper by himself at this moment; will have his pint of champagne, though the guv'nor only allows us claret-cup—ha! ha!”
“I don't believe all this stuff you're telling us about high wages and champagne, Mr. Tom,” said Flora. “But I'm certain there's something extraordinary about your new footman. You may as well let us into the secret.”
“Well, if you want to know his history, I must refer you to Miss Rose Hartley,” said Tom. “She can tell you about him.”
“Is this so, Rose?” said Harry Netterville, who overheard the remark.
“Don't ask me for any explanation just now, please Harry,” she replied; “I'd rather not give it.”
“Why not?” cried Netterville, who was rather of a jealous temper. “Have you known him long? I never heard of him before.”
“I have already said I shall not answer any questions concerning him just now.”
“Ah! yonder he is!” exclaimed Flora. “I can see him in the shop, through the open door. I declare, he has changed his dress! He doesn't look half so imposing now.”
“But he is much more like a gentleman,” said Clo-tilde, who also perceived Walter in the shop, now in his morning attire. “Do be good-natured, Mr. Tom, and tell us who he is!”
“I would rather stop both your mouths with a little of this trifle,” said Tom, helping them.