"It is fair," ses Sam, and twenty minutes arterwards they was sitting in a music-'all drinking each other's 'ealths and listening to the songs-- Mr. Goodman with a big cigar in 'is mouth and his 'at cocked over one eye, and Sam beating time to the music with 'is pipe. "'Ow do you like it?" he ses. Mr. Goodman didn't answer 'im because 'e was joining in the chorus with one side of 'is mouth and keeping 'is cigar alight with the other. He just nodded at 'im; but 'e looked so 'appy that Sam felt it was a pleasure to sit there and look at 'im. "I wonder wot Peter and Ginger is doin'?" he ses, when the song was finished. "I don't know," ses Mr. Goodman, "and, wot's more, I don't care. If I'd 'ad any idea that Peter was like wot he is I should never 'ave wrote to 'im. I can't think 'ow you can stand 'im." "He ain't so bad," ses Sam, wondering whether he ought to tell 'im 'arf of wot Peter really was like. "Bad!" ses Mr. Goodman. "I come up to London for a 'oliday--a change, mind you--and I thought Peter and me was going to 'ave a good time. Instead o' that, he goes about with a face as long as a fiddle. He don't drink, 'e don't go to places of amusement--innercent places of amusement --and 'is idea of enjoying life is to go walking about the streets and drinking cups o' tea." "We must try and alter 'im," ses Sam, arter doing a bit o' thinking. "Certainly not," ses Mr. Goodman, laying his 'and on Sam's knee. "Far be it from me to interfere with a feller-creature's ideas o' wot's right. Besides, he might get writing to 'is sister agin, and she might tell my wife." "But Peter said she was dead," ses Sam, very puzzled. "I married agin," ses Peter's uncle, in a whisper, 'cos people was telling 'im to keep quiet, "a tartar--a perfect tartar. She's in a 'orsepittle at present, else I shouldn't be 'ere. And I shouldn't ha' been able to come if I 'adn't found five pounds wot she'd hid in a match-box up the chimbley." "But wot'll you do when she finds it out?" ses Sam, opening 'is eyes. "I'm going to 'ave the house cleaned and the chimbleys swept to welcome her 'ome," ses Mr. Goodman, taking a sip o' whiskey. "It'll be a little surprise for her." They stayed till it was over, and on the bus he gave Sam some strong peppermint lozenges wot 'e always carried about with 'im, and took some 'imself. He said 'e found 'em helpful. "What are we going to tell Peter and Ginger?" ses Sam, as they got near the 'ouse. "Tell 'em?" ses Mr. Goodman. "Tell 'em the truth. How we follered 'em when they got off the bus, and 'ave been looking for 'em ever since. I'm not going to 'ave my 'oliday spoilt by a teetotal nevvy, I can tell you." He started on Peter, wot was sitting on his bed with Ginger waiting for them, the moment he got inside, and all Ginger and Peter could say didn't make any difference. "Mr. Small see you as plain as what I did," he ses. "Plainer," ses Sam.