Godwin, dreading contact with friends of the family, strode
upstairs. When the door was opened, there appeared the smiling
countenance of Andrew Peak; he wore the costume of a traveller, and
by his side stood a boy of ten, too plainly his son.

'Well, Grace!' was his familiar greeting, as the widow drew back. 'I
told you you'd 'ev the pleasure of seem' me again before so very
long. Godwin at 'ome with you, I s'pose? Thet you, Noll? 'Ow do, my
bo-oy? 'Ere's yer cousin Jowey. Shike 'ands, Jowey bo-oy! Sorry I
couldn't bring my old lady over this time, Grace; she sends her
respects, as usual. 'Ow's Charlotte? Bloomin', I 'ope?'

He had made his way into the front parlour, dragging the youngster
after him. Having deposited his handbag and umbrella on the sofa, he
seated himself in the easy-chair, and began to blow his nose with
vigour.

'Set down, Jowey; set down, bo-oy! Down't be afride of your awnt.'

'Oi ain't afride!' cried the youth, in a tone which supported his
assertion.

Mrs. Peak trembled with annoyance and indecision. Andrew evidently
meant to stay for some time, and she could not bring herself to
treat him with plain discourtesy; but she saw that Oliver, after
shaking hands in a very strained way, had abruptly left the room,
and Godwin would be anything but willing to meet his uncle. When the
name of her elder son was again mentioned she withdrew on the
pretence of summoning him, and went up to his room. Godwin had heard
the hateful voice, and was in profound disturbance.