Frances and Nelly had chosen a table in a secluded corner of the private
dining room, and were waiting somewhat impatiently when Betty went in to
serve them.
"Will my ladies eat from table linen--extra, sixpence?" asked Betty,
bending her knee in what might have been called a perpendicular courtesy.
Had she been sure that her customers were of high rank, she would have
saluted them with a low bow, omitting to mention the extra charge for the
linen. But as Frances and Nelly were not escorted by a gentleman, she was
not sure of their station.
"Will we eat from table linen?" demanded Nelly, in apparent indignation.
"Now, damn the girl! Just hear her! From what else, in God's name, hussy,
should we eat? From a trough? And mind you, if there is a spot on it as
large as my smallest finger nail, I'll tear it to shreds!" She winked to
Frances, perhaps to show Betty that she was only chaffing, for in all the
world there was no kinder heart than Nelly Gwynn's.
Betty at once concluded that her guests were great ladies, perhaps from
Whitehall itself, for surely none save ladies of the highest or lowest
rank would use the language that came so trippingly on Nelly's tongue. So
Betty made a deep courtesy, smiled, and answered:--
"Yes, my ladies, it shall be as spotless as a maid of honor's character.
It cost five shillings the ell."
"Is that the best you can do?" demanded Nelly, laughing despite herself
at Betty's reference to the maids of honor.
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