“You ain’t as clever as you thought you was, Bill,” said the cook with the air of a discoverer.
“And there’s that pore dear boy shut up in the dark for nothing,” said Simpson, with somewhat belated thoughtfulness. “An’ cookie doing his work.”
“I’m not going to be beat,” said Bill blackly; “the old man was badly scared yesterday. We must have another sooicide, that’s all.”
“Let Tommy do it again,” suggested the cook flippantly, and they all laughed.
“Two on one trip ’ll about do the old man up,” said Bill, regarding the interruption unfavourably. “Now, who’s going to be the next?”
“We’ve had enough o’ this game,” said Simpson, shrugging his shoulders; “you’ve gone cranky, Bill.”
“No I ain’t,” said Bill; “I’m not going to be beat, that’s all. Whoever goes down, they’ll have a nice, easy, lazy time. Sleep all day if he likes, and nothing to do. You ain’t been looking very well lately, Ned.”
“Oh?” said the old man coldly.
“Well, settle it between you,” said Bill carelessly; “it’s all one to me, which of you goes.”
“Ho, an’ what about you?” demanded Simpson.