"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.