Bob Pretty pretended not to hear 'im.
“Where did your wife get the money to buy that bonnet she 'ad on on Sunday?” ses Bill Chambers. “My wife ses it's the fust new bonnet she has 'ad since she was married.”
“And where did the new winder curtains come from?” ses Peter Gubbins.
Bob Pretty drank up 'is beer and stood looking at them very thoughtful; then he opened the door and went out without saying a word.
“He's got your great-uncle a prisoner in his 'ouse, Henery,” ses Bill Chambers; “it's easy for to see that the pore old gentleman is getting past things, and I shouldn't wonder if Bob Pretty don't make 'im leave all 'is money to 'im.”
Henery Walker started raving ag'in, and for the next few days he tried his 'ardest to get a few words with 'is great-uncle, but Bob Pretty was too much for 'im. Everybody in Claybury said wot a shame it was, but it was all no good, and Henery Walker used to leave 'is work and stand outside Bob Pretty's for hours at a time in the 'opes of getting a word with the old man.
He got 'is chance at last, in quite a unexpected way. We was up 'ere at the “Cauliflower” one evening, and, as it 'appened, we was talking about Henery Walker's great-uncle, when the door opened, and who should walk in but the old gentleman 'imself. Everybody left off talking and stared at 'im, but he walked up to the bar and ordered a glass o' gin and beer as comfortable as you please.
Bill Chambers was the fust to get 'is presence of mind back, and he set off arter Henery Walker as fast as 'is legs could carry 'im, and in a wunnerful short time, considering, he came back with' Henery, both of 'em puffing and blowing their 'ardest.
“There—he—is!” ses Bill Chambers, pointing to the old gentleman.
Henery Walker gave one look, and then 'e slipped over to the old man and stood all of a tremble, smiling at 'im. “Good-evening,” he ses.