“Wot?” ses the old gentleman.
“Good-evening!” ses Henery Walker ag'in.
“I'm a bit deaf,” ses the old gentleman, putting his 'and to his ear.
“Good-evening!” ses Henery Walker ag'in, shouting. “I'm your grand-nephew, Henery Walker!”
“Ho, are you?” ses the old gentleman, not at all surprised. “Bob Pretty was telling me all about you.”
“I 'ope you didn't listen to 'im,” ses Henery, Walker, all of a tremble. “Bob Pretty'd say anything except his prayers.”
“He ses you're arter my money,” ses the old gentleman, looking at 'im.
“He's a liar, then,” ses Henery Walker; “he's arter it 'imself. And it ain't a respectable place for you to stay at. Anybody'll tell you wot a rascal Bob Pretty is. Why, he's a byword.”
“Everybody is arter my money,” ses the old gentleman, looking round. “Everybody.”
“I 'ope you'll know me better afore you've done with me, uncle,” ses Henery Walker, taking a seat alongside of 'im. “Will you 'ave another mug o' beer?”