In three months Henery Walker ’adn’t seen the color of ’is money once, and, wot was worse still, he took to giving Henery’s things away. Mrs. Walker ’ad been complaining for some time of ’ow bad the hens had been laying, and one morning at breakfast-time she told her ’usband that, besides missing eggs, two of ’er best hens ’ad been stolen in the night. “They wasn’t stolen,” ses old Mr. Walker, putting down ’is teacup. “I took ’em round this morning and give ’em to Bob Pretty.” “Give ’em to Bob Pretty?” ses Henery Walker, arf choking. “Wot for?” “’Cos he asked me for ’em,” ses the old gentleman. “Wot are you looking at me like that for?” Henery couldn’t answer ’im, and the old gentleman, looking very fierce, got up from the table and told Mrs. Walker to give ’im his hat. Henery Walker clung to ’im with tears in his eyes a’most and begged ’im not to go, and arter a lot of talk old Mr. Walker said he’d look over it this time, but it mustn’t occur ag’in. Arter that ’e did as ’e liked with Henery Walker’s things, and Henery dursen’t say a word to ’im. Bob Pretty used to come up and flatter ’im and beg ’im to go back and lodge with ’im, and Henery was so afraid he’d go that he didn’t say a word when old Mr. Walker used to give Bob Pretty things to make up for ’is disappointment. He ’eard on the quiet from Bill Chambers, who said that the old man ’ad told it to Bob Pretty as a dead secret, that ’e ’ad left ’im all his money, and he was ready to put up with anything. The old man must ha’ been living with Henery Walker for over eighteen months when one night he passed away in ’is sleep. Henery knew that his ’art was wrong, because he ’ad just paid Dr. Green ’is bill for saying that ’e couldn’t do anything for ’im, but it was a surprise to ’im all the same. He blew his nose ’ard and Mrs. Walker kept rubbing ’er eyes with her apron while they talked in whispers and wondered ’ow much money they ’ad come in for. In less than ten minutes the news was all over Claybury, and arf the people in the place hanging round in front of the ’ouse waiting to hear ’ow much the Walkers ’ad come in for. Henery Walker pulled the blind on one side for a moment and shook his ’ead at them to go away. Some of them did go back a yard or two, and then they stood staring at Bob Pretty, wot come up as bold as brass and knocked at the door. “Wot’s this I ’ear?” he ses, when Henery Walker opened it. “You don’t mean to tell me that the pore old gentleman has really gone? I told ’im wot would happen if ’e came to lodge with you.” “You be off,” ses Henery Walker; “he hasn’t left you anything.” “I know that,” ses Bob Pretty, shaking his ’ead. “You’re welcome to it, Henery. if there is anything. I never bore any malice to you for taking of ’im away from us. I could see you’d took a fancy to ’im from the fust. The way you pretended ’e was your great-uncle showed me that.” “Wot are you talking about?” ses Henery Walker. “He was my great-uncle!”