Mrs.Fenton jumped down her throat.
"Hold your silly tongue.

Don't talk to me.

I--the smelling salts! Quick, you slut, or I'll faint," screamed the lady.
No one could look less like fainting than did Mrs.Fenton, and so Betty thought, but she kept her thoughts to herself and fetched the restorer at which her mistress vigorously sniffed, after sinking, seemingly prostrate, into a chair.

Then she fell to fanning her hot face with her apron, now and again relieving her feelings with language quite appropriate to the neighbourhood of the Old Bailey.
Meanwhile Hannah wisely kept aloof and only went to the kitchen when necessary to execute her customers' orders.

Directly the fainting lady inside saw the waitress she revived.
"What's this about Lavinia?
Tell me.