"Trust a teetotaller for knowing good tea," ses Mr. Goodman. "I expect
Peter enjoyed it. I s'pose 'e is a very strict teetotaller?"

"Strict ain't the word for it," ses Sam, trying to do 'is duty by Peter.
"We all are."

"That's right," ses Mr. Goodman, and he pushed his 'at back and looked at
Sam very serious. They walked on a bit further, and then Peter's uncle
stopped sudden just as they was passing a large public-'ouse and looked
at Sam.

"I don't want Peter to know, 'cos it might alarm 'im," he ses, "but I've
come over a bit faint. I'll go in 'ere for 'arf a minnit and sit down.
You'd better wait outside."

"I'll come in with you, in case you want help," ses Sam. "I don't mind
wot people think."

Mr. Goodman tried to persuade 'im not to, but it was all no good, and at
last 'e walked in and sat down on a tall stool that stood agin the bar,
and put his hand to his 'ead.

"I s'pose we shall 'ave to 'ave something," he ses in a whisper to Sam;
"we can't expect to come in and sit down for nothing. What'll you take?"

Sam looked at 'im, but he might just as well ha' looked at a brass door-
knob.

"I--I--I'll 'ave a small ginger-beer," he ses at last, "a very small