"That's 'ow 'e goes on," remarked the former, in an audible whisper. Mr.
Wilks nodded, reassuringly.

"I 'ad them ideas once," he said, "but they go off. If you could only
live to see Teddy at the age o' ninety-five, 'e wouldn't want to go then.
'E'd say it was crool hard, being cut off in the flower of 'is youth."

Mrs. Silk laughed gaily and Mr. Wilks bellowed a gruff accompaniment.
Mr. Edward Silk eyed them pityingly.

"That's the 'ardship of it," he said, slowly, as he looked round from his
seat by the fireplace; "that's where the 'ollowness of things comes in.
That's where I envy Mr. Wilks."

"Envy me?" said the smiling visitor; "what for?"

"Because you're so near the grave," said Mr. Silk.

Mr. Wilks, who was taking another draught of beer, put the glass down and
eyed him fixedly.

"That's why I envy you," continued the other.

"I don't want to live, and you do, and yet I dessay I shall be walking
about forty and fifty years after you're dead and forgotten."

"Wot d'ye mean--near the grave?" inquired

Mr. Wilks, somewhat shortly.