“Tidy,” said Mr Peter, and they shook hands as if they were cross with each other, and then they each made a hearty meal.
“Got a latchkey, Jabez?” said Mr Peter, as, after supper, we all drew up round the fire and the visitor from Rowford refilled and lit his pipe, causing Mr Jabez to draw off from him as far as was possible.
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“That’s right,” said Mr Peter; “don’t want to go to bed, do you, young ’un?”
“Oh, no,” I said; “I’m too glad to see you again.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled, as he looked at me fixedly.
“Been a good boy, Jabez?” he said at last.
“Who?—me?”
“No, no; young ’un here.”
“Oh, yes. Can’t you see?”