George Hatchard couldn't understand 'im at fust, and when he did he wouldn't 'ave a hand in it because it wasn't the right thing to do, and because he felt sure that Mrs. Pearce would find it out. But at last 'e wrote out all about her for Alf; her maiden name, and where she was born, and everything; and then he told Alf that, if 'e dared to play such a trick on an unsuspecting, loving woman, he'd never forgive 'im.
“I shall want a couple o' quid,” ses Alf.
“Certainly not,” ses his uncle. “I won't 'ave nothing to do with it, I tell you.”
“Only to buy chocolates with,” ses Alf.
“Oh, all right,” ses George Hatchard; and he went upstairs to 'is bedroom and came down with three pounds and gave 'im. “If that ain't enough,” he ses, “let me know, and you can 'ave more.”
Alf winked at 'im, but the old man drew hisself up and stared at 'im, and then 'e turned and walked away with his 'ead in the air.
He 'ardly got a chance of speaking to Alf next day, Mrs. Pearce being 'ere, there, and everywhere, as the saying is, and finding so many little odd jobs for Alf to do that there was no time for talking. But the day arter he sidled up to 'im when the 'ouse-keeper was out of the room and asked 'im whether he 'ad bought the chocolates.
“Yes,” ses Alfred, taking one out of 'is pocket and eating it, “some of 'em.”
George Hatchard coughed and fidgeted about. “When are you going to buy the others?” he ses.
“As I want 'em,” ses Alf. “They'd spoil if I got 'em all at once.”