“Arm-cheer?” repeated Mr. Potter inquiringly.
“Ah! ’Osea,’ says ’e, aye, an’ called me ’is friend, ’e did, ’Osea,’ says ’e, ‘you shall set in comfort arl your days,’ ’e sez—them were ’is very words! An’ I’ve been ’opin’ an’ a-waitin’ an’ expectin’ that theer cheer ever since.... An’ look wot I done for ’e!”
“Wot?” demanded Mr. Potter.
“Why, didn’t oi comfort ’e an’ talk to ’e when arl the world was agin’ him? Didn’t oi speak up for ’e on arl ’casions, ah—an’ mak’ love for ’e to ’is sweet-’eart, tu? Wasn’t oi loike a feäther an’ mother arl rolled into one? An’ now ’ere be oi, an’ ’im gone—an’ no cheer!”
It was at this moment that, turning into the main road, they beheld a dusty chaise approaching at a smart trot, whereupon, the way being somewhat narrow, Mr. Potter pulled aside to make room; but scarcely had he done so than a cheery voice hailed him, the chaise pulled up, and out from the window came a bewigged head.
“Why, Potter—George Potter,” cried a merry voice. “God bless ye, George; ’tis very well met! And my friend Hosea too! How art thou, my Aged Soul? I vow thou’rt looking younger than ever!”
“Lord, Sir John!” exclaimed Mr. Potter heartily, “I be main glad to see ye back, sir.”
“And I’m back for good, George ... aye, for good of every kind and sort, I hope——”
“Why, then, that theer cheer, Sir John!” piped the Aged One. “Wot about my arm-cheer?”
“’E means the cheer your honour promised ’im, sir,” explained Mr. Potter.