“It’s in the family.”
“Yes, it is,” retorted the woman. “If you ’adn’t sleepy fits you’d get some work to do, like other men.”
“Oh, shut it, woman! What I mean is, that my brother Tom gets them fits, and this lad o’ mine is said to be the livin’ image of his uncle. So he had a trance, had he? What did you do?”
The woman gave an evil grin.
“I did what you did.”
“What, the sealin’-wax again?”
“Not much of it. Just enough to wake ’im. It’s the only way to break ’im of it.”
Silas shrugged his shoulders.
“’Ave a care, my lass! There is talk of the p’lice, and if they see those burns, you and I may be in the dock together.”
“Silas Linden, you are a fool! Can’t a parent c’rect ’is own child?”