Alfred sat down afore he thought wot 'e was doing agin.
“I always like to see people comfortable,” ses the 'ousekeeper; “it's my way. It's warm weather for the time o' year, ain't it? George is upstairs, but he'll be down in a minute.”
“Who?” ses Alf, hardly able to believe his ears.
“George,” ses the 'ousekeeper.
“George? George who?” ses Alfred, very severe.
“Why your uncle, of course,” ses the 'ousekeeper. “Do you think I've got a houseful of Georges?”
Young Alf sat staring at her and couldn't say a word. He noticed that the room 'ad been altered, and that there was a big photygraph of her stuck up on the mantelpiece. He sat there fidgeting with 'is feet—until the 'ousekeeper looked at them—and then 'e got up and walked upstairs.
His uncle, wot was sitting on his bed when 'e went into the room and pretended that he 'adn't heard 'im come in, shook hands with 'im as though he'd never leave off.
“I've got something to tell you, Alf,” he ses, arter they 'ad said “How d'ye do?” and he 'ad talked about the weather until Alf was fair tired of it.
“I've been and gone and done a foolish thing, and 'ow you'll take it I don't know.”