paper which they 'ad both signed with their blood, promising that the
fust one that died would appear to the other. Bill agreed to it one
evenin' when he didn't know wot he was doing, and for years arterwards 'e
used to get the cold creeps down 'is back when he thought of Silas dying
fust. And the idea of dying fust 'imself gave 'im cold creeps all over.

Bill was a very good husband when he was sober, but 'is money was two
pounds a week, and when a man has all that and on'y a wife to keep out of
it, it's natural for 'im to drink. Mrs. Burtenshaw tried all sorts o'
ways and means of curing 'im, but it was no use. Bill used to think o'
ways, too, knowing the 'arm the drink was doing 'im, and his fav'rite
plan was for 'is missis to empty a bucket o' cold water over 'im every
time he came 'ome the worse for licker. She did it once, but as she 'ad
to spend the rest o' the night in the back yard it wasn't tried again.

Bill got worse as he got older, and even made away with the furniture to
get drink with. And then he used to tell 'is missis that he was drove to
the pub because his 'ome was so uncomfortable.

Just at that time things was at their worst Silas Winch, who 'appened to
be ashore and 'ad got Bill's address from a pal, called to see 'im. It
was a Saturday arternoon when he called, and, o' course, Bill was out,
but 'is missis showed him in, and, arter fetching another chair from the
kitchen, asked 'im to sit down.

Silas was very perlite at fust, but arter looking round the room and
seeing 'ow bare it was, he gave a little cough, and he ses, "I thought
Bill was doing well?" he ses.

[Illustration: "Silas was very perlite at fust."]