“So they do; but there can’t be any mice next door, or I should have heard them. Nothing for them to eat, Becky—eh? Mice can’t eat ghosts—eh?”
“No, indeed,” I said. “I hope you are sleeping well, Mrs. Bailey.”
“No, I am not, Becky. As night comes on I get a pain in my side, and it keeps me awake for hours.”
“What a shame!” I exclaimed. “I’ll come and rub it for you, if you like, when my work’s done. Were you awake last night, Mrs. Bailey?”
“I didn’t close my eyes till past two this morning; too bad, eh, Becky?”
“Indeed it is. I hope you were not disturbed.”
“Only my side, Becky; nothing else.”
This conversation convinced me that Richard Manx had not heard any such sound as he stated. What was his purpose in endeavouring to deceive Mrs. Preedy?
The same day I was sent out to the greengrocer’s, and the woman said to me that she supposed I was not going to stop much longer in my place.
“Why not?” I asked.