"Why shouldn't he mistake me for a ghost?" he ses at last; "the shock
might do 'im good. And, if you come to that, why shouldn't I pretend to
be my own ghost and warn 'im off the drink?"

Mrs. Burtenshaw got so excited at the idea she couldn't 'ardly speak, but
at last, arter saying over and over agin she wouldn't do such a thing for
worlds, she and Silas arranged that he should come in at about three
o'clock in the morning and give Bill a solemn warning. She gave 'im her
key, and Silas said he'd come in with his 'air and cap all wet and
pretend he'd been drowned.

"It's very kind of you to take all this trouble for nothing," ses Mrs.
Burtenshaw as Silas got up to go.

"Don't mention it," ses Silas. "It ain't the fust time, and I don't
suppose it'll be the last, that I've put myself out to help my feller-
creeturs. We all ought to do wot we can for each other."

"Mind, if he finds it out," ses Mrs. Burtenshaw, all of a tremble, "I
don't know nothing about it. P'r'aps to make it more life-like I'd
better pretend not to see you."

"P'r'aps it would be better," ses Silas, stopping at the street door.
"All I ask is that you'll 'ide the poker and anything else that might be
laying about handy. And you 'ad better oil the lock so as the key won't
make a noise."

Mrs. Burtenshaw shut the door arter 'im, and then she went in and 'ad a
quiet sit-down all by 'erself to think it over. The only thing that
comforted 'et was that Bill would be in licker, and also that 'e would