“Very,” said Mrs. Gibbs.
“I suppose,” said Mr. Kidd, after a pause, “I suppose you haven't been dreaming about 'im?”
“No; I'm a teetotaller,” said the widow.
The two gentlemen exchanged glances, and Mr. Kidd, ever of an impulsive nature, resolved to bring matters to a head.
“Wot would you do if Joe was to come in 'ere at this door?” he asked.
“Scream the house down,” said the widow, promptly.
“Scream—scream the 'ouse down?” said the distressed Mr. Kidd.
Mrs. Gibbs nodded. “I should go screaming, raving mad,” she said, with conviction.
“But—but not if 'e was alive!” said Mr. Kidd.
“I don't know what you're driving at,” said Mrs. Gibbs. “Why don't you speak out plain? Poor Joe is drownded, you know that; you saw it all, and yet you come talking to me about dreams and things.”