"Well, an' here I am, Joe, an' here I mean t' stay--no more climbin' fer
me; I'm tired, me lad, tired!" Saying which, the Old Un spread his
handkerchief on a convenient stair and proceeded to seat himself thereon
with due regard for his immaculately creased trousers.

"Well," growled Joe, "of all the perverse old raspers that ever I did
see--"

"That's enough, Joe, that's enough!" exclaimed the Old Un, fanning
himself with his rakish hat. "Jest bend down and flick the dust off me
shoes with your wipe, like a good lad, will ye? That's the worst o'
these 'ere patent leathers; they looks well, but they sure ketches th'
dust, Joe, they ketches the dust oncommon bad. So jest give 'em a flick
over--me pore old back's too stiff t' let me reach 'em, what wi' me
rheumatiz an' a floatin' kidney or so--"

"Kidneys!" snarled Joe, drawing out a large bandanna handkerchief and
polishing the old man's natty shoes until they shone resplendent.
"What's the matter with ye blessed kidneys now?"

"Don't I tell ye--they floats, Joe, they floats!"

"Float!" growled Joe. "Float--where to?"

"'Ere, there, an' everywhere, Joe, I can feel 'em! They're always
a-gettin' theirselves all mixed up any'ow. Oh, it's an 'orrible
complaint to 'ave kidneys like mine as gets theirselves lost."

"Wish they'd lose you along with 'em!" growled Joe, shaking the dust
from his handkerchief.