“That's right,” ses his uncle, smiling. “My nevvy, Peter Russet, will lend it to you, Mr. Small, of 'is own free will. He 'as offered afore he was asked, and that's the proper way to do it, in my opinion.”
He reached acrost the table and shook 'ands with Peter, and said that generosity ran in their family, and something seemed to tell 'im as Peter wouldn't lose by it. Everybody seemed pleased with each other, and arter Ginger Dick and Peter 'ad gone out Mr. Goodman took the five pounds off of old Sam and stowed 'em away very careful in the match-box.
“It's nice to 'ave money agin,” he ses. “There's enough for a week's enjoyment here.”
“Yes,” ses Sam, slow-like; “but wot I want to know is, wot about the day arter to-morrow, when Peter expects 'is money?”
Mr. Goodman patted 'im on the shoulder. “Don't you worry about Peter's troubles,” he ses. “I know exactly wot to do; it's all planned out. Now I'm going to 'ave a lay down for an hour—I didn't get much sleep last night—and if you'll call me at twelve o'clock we'll go somewhere. Knock loud.”
He patted 'im on the shoulder agin, and Sam, arter fidgeting about a bit, went out. The last time he ever see Peter's uncle he was laying on the bed with 'is eyes shut, smiling in his sleep. And Peter Russet didn't see Sam for eighteen months.