"Where's Granfa Champion?" asked Trewhella.
"Oh, my dear life, that old man is always last," grumbled Mrs. Trewhella. "What a thing 'tis to have ancient old relations as do never know to come in to a meal. Go find him, boy Thomas," she added with a sigh.
Thomas was much embarrassed by this order, and a subdued titter ran round the lower part of the table as Thomas made one of his fruit-like exits to find Granfa Champion.
"He's my uncle," explained Mrs. Trewhella to Jenny. "A decent old man as anyone could wish to meet, but most terrible unknowing of the time. I believe he's so old that time do mean nothing to him. I believe he's grown to despise it."
"Is he very old?" asked Jenny, for want of anything better to say.
"Well, nobody do know how old he is. There's a difference of twenty years in the opinions you'll hear put about. Poor old soul, he do give very little trouble at all. For when the sun do shine, he's all the time walking up and down the garden, and when 'tis dropping, he do sit in his room so quiet as a great old lamb."
Here Thomas came back with positive news.
"Mr. Champion can't get his boot off and he's in some frizz about it."
"How can't he get his boot off? How didn't 'ee help him?"
"So I did," said Thomas. "But he wouldn't hear nothing of what I do know about boots, and kept on all the time telling what a fool I was. I done my best with 'en."