me 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.

"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.

[Illustration: You leave go o' my lodger 174]

"You leave go o' my great-uncle--my dear great-uncle," ses Henery
Walker, as the old gentleman called 'im a bad name and asked 'im whether
he thought he was made of iron.

I believe they'd ha' been at it till closing-time, on'y Smith, the
landlord, came running in from the back and told them to go outside.
He 'ad to shout to make 'imself heard, and all four of 'em seemed to be
trying which could make the most noise.

"He's my lodger," ses Bob Pretty, "and he can't go without giving me
proper notice; that's the lor--a week's notice."

They all shouted a