“But you're coming back?” said Mr. Hills.
“O' course I am,” was the reply. “George is the only relation I've got, and I've got to look after him, I suppose. After all, blood is thicker than water.”
“Hear, hear!” said Mrs. Bradshaw, piously.
“And there's you and Bella,” continued Mr. Kemp; “two of the best that ever breathed.”
The ladies looked down.
“And Charlie Hills; I don't know—I don't know when I've took such a fancy to anybody as I have to 'im. If I was a young gal—a single young gal—he's—the other half,” he said, slowly, as he paused—“just the one I should fancy. He's a good-'arted, good-looking——”
“Draw it mild,” interrupted the blushing Mr. Hills as Mr. Wright bestowed a ferocious glance upon the speaker.
“Clever, lively young fellow,” concluded Mr. Kemp. “George!”
“Yes,” said Mr. Wright.
“I'm going now. I've got to catch the train for Southampton, but I don't want you to come with me. I prefer to be alone. You stay here and cheer them up. Oh, and before I forget it, lend me a couple o' pounds out o' that fifty I gave you last night. I've given all my small change away.”