“He's retired,” ses Peter, trying not to speak proud.
“Got money?” ses Sam, with a start.
“I b'leeve so,” ses Peter, in a off-hand way. “I don't s'pose 'e lives on air.”
“Any wives or children?” ses Sam.
“No,” ses Peter. “He 'ad a wife, but she died.”
“Then you have 'im, Peter,” ses Sam, wot was always looking out for money. “Don't throw away a oppertunity like that. Why, if you treat 'im well he might leave it all to you.”
“No such luck,” ses Peter.
“You do as Sam ses,” ses Ginger. “I wish I'd got an uncle.”
“We'll try and give 'im a good time,” ses Sam, “and if he's anything like Peter we shall enjoy ourselves.”
“Yes; but he ain't,” ses Peter. “He's a very solemn, serious-minded man, and a strong teetotaller. Wot you'd call a glass o' beer he'd call pison. That's 'ow he got on. He's thought a great deal of in 'is place, I can tell you, but he ain't my sort.”