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We, munseer. Backystopper. I say, Bill: is that young chap often a-coming about here? They'd run pretty in a curricle, wouldn't they? Miss N. and Master N. Quiet, old woman! Jest look to that mare's ead, will you, Billy? He's a fine young feller, that is. He gave me a covering the other night. Whenever I sor him in the Park, he was always riding an ansum hanimal. What is he?
They said in our 'all he was a hartis. I can 'ardly think that. Why, there used to be a hartis come to our club, and painted two or three of my 'osses, and my old woman too. Lackey. There's hartises and hartises, Backystopper. Why, there's some on 'em comes here with more stars on their coats than Dukes has got. Have you never 'eard of Mossyer Verny, or Mossyer Gudang? Backystopper.
I go to call the people of Madame la Vicomtesse. The Lackey. The Princess is at home, miss, and will be most appy to see you, miss. The Lackey to the Servants on the box. Good morning, Thomas. How dy' do, old Backystopper? Backystopper. How de do, Jim? I say, you couldn't give a feller a drink of beer, could yer, Muncontour? It was precious wet last night, I can tell you.
He was in England with the Count, fifty years ago in the hemigration in Queen Hann's time, you know. He used to support the old Count. He says he remembers a young Musseer Newcome then, that used to take lessons from the Shevallier, the Countess' father there's my bell. Backystopper. Not a bad chap that. Sports his money very free sings an uncommon good song. Thomas.
They say this young gent is sweet on Miss N.; which, I guess, I wish he may git it. Tommy. He! he! he! Backystopper. Brayvo, Tommy. Tom ain't much of a man for conversation, but he's a precious one to drink. Do you think the young gent is sweet on her, Tommy? I sor him often prowling about our 'ouse in Queen Street, when we was in London. Tommy. I guess he wasn't let in in Queen Street.
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