"Good-by," ses Bill, in a voice all smothered with the bed-clothes.

Silas Winch groaned agin, and Bill, as the shock 'ad made a'most sober,
trembled all over.

"The moment I died," ses Silas, "I thought of my promise towards you.
'Bill's expecting me,' I ses, and, instead of staying in comfort at the
bottom of the sea, I kicked off the body of the cabin-boy wot was
clinging round my leg, and 'ere I am."

"It was very--t-t-thoughtful--of you--Silas," ses Bill; "but you always--
w-w-was--thoughtful. Good-by--"

Afore Silas could answer, Mrs. Burtenshaw, who felt more comfortable,
'aving got a bit o' the clothes back, thought it was time to put 'er
spoke in.

"Lor' bless me, Bill," she ses. "Wotever are you a-talking to yourself
like this for? 'Ave you been dreaming?"

"Dreaming!" ses pore Bill, catching hold of her 'and and gripping it till
she nearly screamed. "I wish I was. Can't you see it?"

"See it?" ses his wife. "See wot?"

"The ghost," ses Bill, in a 'orrible whisper; "the ghost of my dear, kind
old pal, Silas Winch. The best and noblest pal a man ever 'ad. The
kindest-'arted----"

"Rubbish," ses Mrs. Burtenshaw. "You've been dreaming. And as for the