'I never knowed yer 'ave a lodger afore!' said Chippy.
'No; I never did,' she replied. 'But he come here an' he begged o' me to gie him a room, an' I did. 'Twas Jem Lacey's mother as brought him. He's come from Lunnon. His name's Albert.'
At this moment the latch of the door clicked and the lodger came in.
'Tea ready, Mrs. Ryder?' he asked.
'In a minute,' she replied. 'This here's my grandson. He've a-come over from Bardon.'
The stranger gave Chippy a cheerful nod, and they soon fell into conversation, and Albert proved very talkative.
'First-rate place to pick yer up, this is!' remarked the lodger.
'Been ill?' asked Chippy.
'Ain't I just?' replied the other. 'I'm boots at a big 'otel in the Strand, an' there's a lot o' them Americans come to our place. An' I can tell yer their stuff tykes a bit o' handlin'. Them American women, they travel wiv boxes about the size of a four-roomed cottage, more or less. An' I got a bit of a strain pullin' of 'em about. Then I ketched a bad cold, an' it sort o' settled in the bellows!'—and the stranger gave himself a thump on the chest—'so I had to go on my club, an' I was laid up eight or nine weeks. Well, arter I'd been on the box that time, the doctor, 'e says to me, 'e says: "What you want now is a change an' fresh air." So Jem Lacey—he's porter at our place—put me up to this spot, an' it's done me wonders!'
'Yer look all right now,' said Chippy, and Chippy spoke truly.