Long, low, intense whistle from Bill. He wrinkled his forehead and stared up at the beams as if he expected to see something unusual there. After a while he said, very impressively: “So did mine.”
The coincidence hadn't done striking him yet; he wrestled with it for nearly a minute longer. Then he said:
“I suppose yer mother goes out washin'?”
“Yes.”
“'N' cleans offices?”
“Yes.”
“So does mine. Any brothers 'n' sisters?”
“Two—one brother 'n' one sister.”
Bill looked relieved—for some reason.
“I got nine,” he said. “Yours younger'n you?”