England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; River life -- Fiction
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?”
“Pay?” ses Henery Walker, speaking afore he ’ad time to think. “Pay?
Why, I don’t want you to pay anything.”
The old gentleman said as ’ow he’d think it over, and Henery started to
talk to ’im about his father and an old aunt named Maria, but ’e
stopped ’im sharp, and said he was sick and tired of the whole Walker
family, and didn’t want to ’ear their names ag’in as long as he lived.
Henery Walker began to talk about Australey then, and asked ’im ’ow
many sheep he’d got, and the words was ’ardly out of ’is mouth afore
the old gentleman stood up and said he was arter his money ag’in.
Henery Walker at once gave ’im some more gin and beer, and arter he ’ad
drunk it the old gentleman said that he’d go and live with ’im for a
little while to see ’ow he liked it.
[Illustration: “‘You leave go o’ my lodger,’ ses Bob Pretty.”]
“But I sha’n’t pay anything,” he ses, very sharp; “mind that.”
“I wouldn’t take it if you offered it to me,” ses Henery Walker.
“You’ll come straight ’ome with me to-night, won’t you?”
Afore old Mr. Walker could answer the door opened and in came Bob
Pretty. He gave one look at Henery Walker and then he walked straight
over to the old gentleman and put his ’and on his shoulder.
“Why, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Mr. Walker,” he ses. “I
couldn’t think wot had ’appened to you.”
“You needn’t worry yourself, Bob,” ses Henery Walker; “he’s coming to
live with me now.”
“Don’t you believe it,” ses Bob Pretty, taking hold of old Mr. Walker
by the arm; “he’s my lodger, and he’s coming with me.”
He began to lead the old gentleman towards the door, but Henery Walker,
wot was still sitting down, threw ’is arms round his legs and held ’im
tight. Bob Pretty pulled one way and Henery Walker pulled the other,
and both of ’em shouted to each other to leave go. The row they made
was awful, but old Mr. Walker made more noise than the two of ’em put
together.
“You leave go o’ my lodger,” ses Bob Pretty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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