AS OTHERS SEE US.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIII, Issue XXV, 22 December 1894, Page 581

AS OTHERS SEE US.

A MONOLOGUE. Ah, you’re right there, Mrs Oldatn. It is a come down, after being with a Markis, too, to—drat ’em, ’e’s ringing again—to ’ave to answer the hell for City folks. Whatever are they a ringing for now ? Want more whisky, I suppose. Well, they may want. I don’t know as ever I told you ’ow I come to part with ’is lordship? Well, any’ow, there’s Mamselle ’ere, she ’aven’t ’eard it, and Mr Allport, I’m sure ’e’d like—l thought so. Well, there was me and the Dook’s valley—’im as married Lady Dalyrumper’s young lady, and Mr ’Olland, what was with Dalyrumper, and we was setting in

the ’ousekeeper’s room, jnst as it might be now, as cosy and as ’appy as lords, when . Ah, you may say that, Mrs Oldam ; they ain’t over ’appy, as you and me knows. It was just a figger of speech—a mere fashion de parly, Mamselle. Well, we was just about commencing a game of cribbage, when all of a suddent ’is lordship’s bell rang, and I jumped up, and forgot to mark for ’is knob. You see I ad n’t been a butler very long then - new to the profession, as you might say—and— Partickler? What, the Mat kis ? Lor bless you, no. As mild as Limited Dairy Milk. A reel lord ’e was. Not like ’er ladyship now, being only a F arson’s daughter, and giving ’erself the airs of a blest if can think of a similar. But there, that’s halways the way with your hups tarts. They There it is again. ’Owl ’ates them electrics. Yes. I suppose I 'ad better go. Orrivor all.

’Oo was it? Why, that hass Hasterisk. Excuse the Judy spree, Mamselle—the Punch and Judy spree, I might say. Ah'm Lor ! ’Ow that governor of yours can cuss, Allport. More whisky, of course, when I’d give ’em more’n ’alf a bottle, and only ’im and Flamborough to drink it. Why don’t ’is mar look after 'im, ’nstead of rampaging on temperance platforms. Ah, I believe you. It'll be duet to dust with ’im precious soon, and a good riddance, too. Continue, Mamselle ? Charmed, I’m sure, if present company-— Well, when I come in, there was ’is lordship—the Markis, that’s to say—a setting in a towering rage. *ls this your ’andwriting, Parkins ?’ ses ’e, ’anding me a letter which I’d wrote to a new wine merchant we was trying, asking for my usual at Christmas. * Yes,’ ses I, *my lord, it his,’ ses I. ‘ Well,’ses ’e, ‘I dont’ave no servants of mine asking for bac ’ * Beg pardon, my lord,’ ses I, interrupting, ‘ but there you wrong me. I never wrote to no tobacconist. Wine merchants I may ’ave done, but tobacconists never.’ You see I thought 1 was safe there, me ‘aving the letter I’d wrote the tobacconist in my pocket, ’is lordship’s stamps being finished. ’Owever, as you ’ave no doubt surnised, the word ’e was going to use was not baccy, but sum furrin word e’d picked up somewheres, meaning * usuals.’ Backshish ! that’s the very word, Allport. Why, ’owever did you— ah, in Cairo? •Well,’ses I, *my lord,’when he’d explained, ‘it’s customary,’ ses I, ‘in hall the best families.* ‘lt ’ave never been the custom in mine,’ ses ’e, * and never will be’—little knowing, pore man, as the cook and the keeper and the coachman and all on us done it regular. And the end of it was, when I’d squared with the wine merchant by shaking ’is port wine, I give ’im warning. No butler as respccs ’imself could stay in a ’ouse where the liberty of the subjick was trampled on like that.

Salary ? Well, not to say good hexactly, hut it was twice as much as the governess, with hall ’er evening dresses and white shoulders and setting down to dinner with the family. Lor, ’ow I despised ’er, poor thing. Course, I were sorry to go. What with brewers and hartis I don’t know what our aristocracy is coming to, and the Markis, ’e was the last of the hold regime. There’s ’ardly a baker’s dozen of really respectable families left, and that was ’ow I come into the City. Of course, as Mamselle says, it’s a peas’ alley, but peas is good things in their way when you can’t get peaches.

Ah, come in, Mr Spavins ; come in. Good evening to you. Let cue introduce you to Mamselle Ortense, old Lady Hay’s young lady, Lady Hasterisk I should say. Mr Allport I think you ’ave met. Now we’re all friends, if the ladies don’t object—permitty, Mamselle ?—we’ll sample the Governor’s cigars. I can recommend them, Allport, for I orders them myself. We was just a talking, Mr Spavins, of the pros and cons of city situations. What hi says is, Wages good and reg’lar* I draws a hextra fiver or two through’avin been along of ’is lordship. Mrs Jones she talks about ’er butler, ’ighly recommended by the dear Markis, and Jones e’ pays. Then, of course, usuals is pretty good, what with . Now what did you get over your last saddle and ’arness account, Mr Spavins ? Ah, I reckoned that would be about the figger. Weil, thot’s pretty tidy, ain’t it ? You can do a deal with forty quid. You score more than the rest on us, not ’aving so much night work as you did with Sir ’Arry. Pore Jones’s. I feel quite sorry for them, They don’t know ’ardly a soul. Of course it ain’t pleasant losing your self-respect through mixing with the middle classes. But lor, it’s very amusing. If you could only ’ear ’em talking at dinner. I can’t ’ardly keep from laughing ; what with Hasterisk insulting them to their faces, and them not seeing it, and the governor calling old Lady Hay my lady till Mrs Jones give ’im the ’int. No, you’re right. They don’t know what Hetiqnette is, no more than their servants did before we :ome. Ab, it was dreadful, I assure you, Mamselle, before me and Mrs Oldham and Mr Spavins *ere come ; the manners in the servants’ ’all was something outrageous Why, I’ve seen the scullery maid go into supper before the first ’ouse, and a Peer’s valley what ’appened to be stopping ere’ going in after Captain Lambert’s young man, just as if ’e was a mere commoner.

What’s that you’re a-saying, Spavins ? Lady Shotover going to win ? Don't you believe it. She ain’t meant to win. Never mind oo I got it from. *E knows a thing or two, does my man. You put every shilling you’ve got on ’Arkaway, and you’ll be there. Lady Shotover, hindeed ! You’ll pardon my ’eat, Mamselle ; but ’aving the misfortune to be French born you don’t—lor ! do you really, now ? Shall I put on a ’alf dozen of gloves for you ? E’s a straight tip. You mark my words. What do I think of Lambert? Well, if you aikme, I think *e's about the only gentleman, what I call a gentleman, as comes to our ’ouse. I don’t say as ’ow Hasterisk don’t know ’is duty to us. ’E’s free enough with the dibs. But, lor bless you, ’e ain’t got the breeding of the bother, for all ‘e’s a lord. But Lambert—well, I ’opes as ’ow ’e’ll marry Miss Maud. She’s a clipper, is Maud, if she’d only stand up to the old woman a bit. And mark you, she’s beginning to. And as for marrying, well—not to say as I knows anything, but I can use my heyes, and I’ll lay any one 10 to las it’ll be Lambert. Ladies and gentlemen, glasses all. I’ve a toast to propose coupling two names, and I’ll lay the same hodds nobody guesses the right names. Captain and Mrs Lambert ? Not likely. Why, if *e was always to be a plain captain ’e wouldn’t ’ave ’alf a chance. But e’s got a cousin as is a lord ’oo is fast approaching hie demise, as the undertakeis say ; and so ’ere’s wishing ’ealth and ’appiness to—Lord and Lidy ’On ham.