"Not—not as medicine?" ses Bill, holding the clothes up a bit so as to be more distinct.
"Not as anything," ses Silas; "not even over Christmas pudding. Raise your right arm above your 'ead and swear by the ghost of pore Silas Winch, as is laying at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, that you won't touch another drop."
Bill Burtenshaw put 'is arm up and swore it.
Then 'e took 'is arm in agin and lay there wondering wot was going to 'appen next.
"If you ever break your oath by on'y so much as a teaspoonful," ses Silas, "you'll see me agin, and the second time you see me you'll die as if struck by lightning. No man can see me twice and live."
Bill broke out in a cold perspiration all over. "You'll be careful, won't you, Silas?" he ses. "You'll remember you 'ave seen me once, I mean?"
"And there's another thing afore I go," ses Silas. "I've left a widder, and if she don't get 'elp from some one she'll starve."
"Pore thing," ses Bill. "Pore thing."
"If you 'ad died afore me," ses Silas, "I should 'ave looked arter your good wife—wot I've now put in a sound sleep—as long as I lived."
Bill didn't say anything.