“Gin and beer,” ses the old gentleman, cocking his eye up very fierce at Smith, the landlord; “and mind the gin don't get out ag'in, same as it did in the last.”
Smith asked 'im wot he meant, but 'is deafness come on ag'in. Henery Walker 'ad an extra dose o' gin put in, and arter he 'ad tasted it the old gentleman seemed to get more amiable-like, and 'im and Henery Walker sat by theirselves talking quite comfortable.
“Why not come and stay with me?” ses Henery Walker, at last. “You can do as you please and have the best of everything.”
“Bob Pretty ses you're arter my money,” ses the old gentleman, shaking his 'ead. “I couldn't trust you.”
“He ses that to put you ag'in me,” ses Henery Walker, pleading-like.
“Well, wot do you want me to come and live with you for, then?” ses old Mr. Walker.
“Because you're my great-uncle,” ses Henery Walker, “and my 'ouse is the proper place for you. Blood is thicker than water.”
“And you don't want my money?” ses the old man, looking at 'im very sharp.
“Certainly not,” ses Henery Walker.
“And 'ow much 'ave I got to pay a week?” ses old Mr. Walker. “That's the question?”