Silas licked his lips--forgetting the paint--and tried the deep ones
agin.

"Now mix 'em a bit," ses Mrs. Burtenshaw.

Silas stared at her. "Look 'ere," he ses, very short, "do you think I'm
a fog-horn, or wot?"

He stood there sulky for a moment, and then 'e invented a noise that
nothing living could miss hearing; even Bill couldn't. He moved in 'is
sleep, and arter Silas 'ad done it twice more he turned and spoke to 'is
missis about it. "D'ye hear?" he ses; "stop it. Stop it at once."

Mrs. Burtenshaw pretended to be asleep, and Bill was just going to turn
over agin when Silas let off another groan. It was on'y a little one
this time, but Bill sat up as though he 'ad been shot, and he no sooner
caught sight of Silas standing there than 'e gave a dreadful 'owl and,
rolling over, wropped 'imself up in all the bed-clothes 'e could lay his
'ands on. Then Mrs. Burtenshaw gave a 'owl and tried to get some of 'em
back; but Bill, thinking it was the ghost, only held on tighter than
ever.

"Bill!" ses Silas Winch, in an awful voice.

Bill gave a kick, and tried to bore a hole through the bed.

"Bill," ses Silas agin, "why don't you answer me? I've come all the way
from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean to see you, and this is all I get
for it. Haven't you got anything to say to me?"