At this the servants burst into a horse haw-haw, in which, however, Raggles, who still kept a most melancholy countenance, did not join. "He ain't a coming back," Mr. Trotter resumed. "He sent for his things, and I wouldn't let 'em go, although Mr. Raggles would; and I don't b'lieve he's no more a Colonel than I am. He's hoff, and I suppose you're a goin' after him. You're no better than swindlers, both on you. Don't be a bullyin' ME. I won't stand it. Pay us our selleries, I say. Pay us our selleries." It was evident, from Mr. Trotter's flushed countenance and defective intonation, that he, too, had had recourse to vinous stimulus.

At this the servants burst into laughter.
"He ain't a coming back," Mr. Trotter said. "He sent for his things, but I wouldn't let 'em go. I don't b'lieve he's no more a Colonel than I am. He's hoff, and I suppose you're a goin' after him. You're swindlers, both on you. Don't be a bullyin' me. Pay us our salaries, I say." It was evident from Mr. Trotter's flushed face and speech that he, too, had been drinking.
