"'Cos I was afraid she might think I was arter 'er money," ses Ginger, getting a little bit closer to Sam.
Peter 'ad another turn then, and him and Ginger kept on talking about gals whose 'arts they 'ad broke till Sam didn't know what to do with 'imself.
"I'll just step round and see my nevy, while you and Peter are amusing each other," he ses at last. "I'll ask 'im to come round to-morrow and then you can give 'im good advice."
The nevy came round next evening. Bright, cheerful young chap 'e was, and he agreed with everything they said. When Peter said as 'ow all gals was deceivers, he said he'd known it for years, but they was born that way and couldn't 'elp it; and when Ginger said that no man ought to marry afore he was fifty, he corrected 'im and made it fifty-five.
"I'm glad to 'ear you talk like that," ses Ginger.
"So am I," ses Peter.
"He's got his 'ead screwed on right," ses Sam, wot thought his sister 'ad made a mistake.
"I'm surprised when I look round at the wimmen men 'ave married," ses the nevy; "wot they could 'ave seen in them I can't think. Me and my young lady often laugh about it."
"Your wot?" ses Sam, pretending to be very surprised.
"My young lady," ses the nevy.
Sam gives a cough. "I didn't know you'd got a young lady," he ses.
"Well, I 'ave," ses his nevy, "and we're going to be married at Christmas."
"But—but you ain't fifty-five," ses Ginger.
"I'm twenty-one," ses the nevy, "but my case is different. There isn't another young lady like mine in the world. She's different to all the others, and it ain't likely I'm going to let 'er be snapped up by somebody else. Fifty-five! Why, 'ow I'm to wait till Christmas I don't know. She's the prettiest and handsomest gal in the world; and she's the cleverest one I ever met. You ought to hear 'er laugh. Like music it is. You'd never forget it."
"Twenty-one is young," ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead. "'Ave you
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