"Trotter! Simpson! turn that drunken wretch out," screamed Mrs. Crawley.
"I shawn't," said Trotter the footman; "turn out yourself. Pay our selleries, and turn me out too. WE'LL go fast enough."
"Are you all here to insult me?" cried Becky in a fury; "when Colonel Crawley comes home I'll--"

"Trotter! Simpson! turn that drunken wretch out," screamed Mrs. Crawley.
"I shan't," said Trotter the footman; "turn out yourself. Pay our salaries, and we'll go fast enough."
"Are you all here to insult me?" cried Becky in a fury; "when Colonel Crawley comes home I'll-"
