When he saw
Jack he smiled. They were very good friends, and the old man had found the
boy one of his best listeners. The Gaffer liked to live in the past; he was
always delighted when anyone would let him tell his tales of the things he
remembered.
"Good-evening, Gaffer," said Jack, respectfully. "This is my friend, Dick
Mercer. He's a Boy Scout from London."
"Knew it! Knew it!" said Gaffer Hodge, with a senile chuckle. "I said they
was from Lunnon this afternoon when I seen them fust! Glad to meet you,
young maister."
Then Jack described Graves as well as he could from his brief sight of him,
and Dick helped by what he remembered.
"Did you see him come into town this afternoon, Gaffer?" asked Jack.
"Let me think," said the old man. "Yes--I seen 'um. Came sneaking in, he
did, this afternoon as ever was! Been up to the big house at Bray Park, he
had. Came in in an automobile, he did. Then he went back there. But he was
in the post office when you and t'other young lad from Lunnon went by,
maister!" nodding his head as if well pleased.
This was to Dick, and he and Jack stared at one another. Certainly their
visit to Gaffer Hodge had paid them well.
"Are you sure of that, Gaffer?" asked Jack, quietly. "Sure that it was an
automobile from Bray Park?"
"Sure as ever was!" said the old man, indignantly.
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