“Farewell, Bill,” he ses.  “Farewell.  I am going back to my bed at the bottom o’ the sea.  So long as you keep both your oaths I shall stay there.  If you break one of ’em or go to see my pore wife I shall appear agin.  Farewell!  Farewell!  Farewell!”

Bill said “Good-by,” and arter a long silence he ventured to put an eye over the edge of the clothes and discovered that the ghost ’ad gone.  He lay awake for a couple o’ hours, wondering and saying over the address to himself so that he shouldn’t forget it, and just afore it was time to get up he fell into a peaceful slumber.  His wife didn’t get a wink, and she lay there trembling with passion to think ’ow she’d been done, and wondering ’ow she was to alter it.

Bill told ’er all about it in the morning; and then with tears in his eyes ‘e went downstairs and emptied a little barrel o’ beer down the sink.  For the fust two or three days ’e went about with a thirst that he’d ha’ given pounds for if ’e’d been allowed to satisfy it, but arter a time it went off, and then, like all teetotallers, ’e began to run down drink and call it pison.

[Illustration:  “With tears in his eyes ‘e emptied a little barrel o’ beer down the sink.”]

The fust thing ’e did when ’e got his money on Friday was to send off a post-office order to Shap Street, and Mrs. Burtenshaw cried with rage and ’ad to put it down to the headache.  She ’ad the headache every Friday for a month, and Bill, wot was feeling stronger and better than he ’ad done for years, felt quite sorry for her.

By the time Bill ’ad sent off six orders she was worn to skin and bone a’most a-worrying over the way Silas Winch was spending her money.  She dursn’t undeceive Bill for two reasons:  fust of all, because she didn’t want ’im to take to drink agin; and secondly, for fear of wot he might do to ’er if ’e found out ’ow she’d been deceiving ’im.

She was laying awake thinking it over one night while Bill was sleeping peaceful by her side, when all of a sudden she ’ad an idea.  The more she thought of it the better it seemed; but she laid awake for ever so long afore she dared to do more than think.  Three or four times she turned and looked at Bill and listened to ’im breathing, and then, trembling all over with fear and excitement, she began ’er little game.

“He did send it,” she ses, with a piercing scream.  “He did send it.”

“W-w-wot’s the matter?” ses Bill, beginning to wake up.

Mrs. Burtenshaw didn’t take any notice of ’im.

“He did send it,” she ses, screaming agin.  “Every Friday night reg’lar.  Oh, don’t let ’im see you agin.”

Bill, wot was just going to ask ’er whether she ’ad gone mad, gave a awful ‘owl and disappeared right down in the middle o’ the bed.

“There’s some mistake,” ses Mrs. Burtenshaw, in a voice that could ha’ been ‘eard through arf-a-dozen beds easy.  “It must ha’ been lost in the post.  It must ha’ been.”