"Lordy!" said Pete, and stooped over Albert, his hands on his knees.
"You're sure that's Albert?" asked Reuben, though he really did not doubt it for a moment.
"Course I am. That's his face sure enough, though he's as thin as wire."
"It's nigh fifteen year since he went away. Wot did he want to come back fur?"
"I reckon he's half starved—and he looks ill too."
"Well, he's swooneded away, anyhow. Can't you do something to mäake him sensible?"
"Poor feller," said Pete, and scratched his head.
Reuben was irritated by this display of sentiment.
"You needn't go pitying him, nuther—he's a lousy Radical traitor. You do something to mäake him sensible and out he goes."
At this juncture Albert opened his eyes.