Bill told 'im, and the cook sat there, shaking his 'ead. “Thank goodness, you didn't 'ear the worst of it,” he ses.
“Worst!” ses Bill. “Wot, was there any more of it?”
“Lot's more,” ses the cook. “But promise me you won't tell Joseph, Bill. Let 'im be happy while he can; it would on'y make 'im miserable, and it wouldn't do any good.”
“I don't know so much about that,” ses Bill, thinking about the arguments some of them had 'ad with Ted about the bottle. “Was it arter they was married, cookie, that it 'appened? Are you sure?”
“Certain sure. It was a week arter,” ses the cook.
“Very well, then,” ses Bill, slapping 'is bad leg by mistake; “if they didn't marry, it couldn't 'appen, could it?”
“Don't talk foolish,” ses the cook; “they must marry. I saw it in my dream.”
“Well, we'll see,” ses Bill. “I'm going to 'ave a quiet talk with Joseph about it, and see wot he ses. I ain't a-going to 'ave my pore gal murdered just to please you and make your dreams come true.”
He 'ad a quiet talk with Joseph, but Joseph wouldn't 'ear of it at fust. He said it was all the cook's nonsense, though 'e owned up that it was funny that the cook should know about the wedding and Emily's name, and at last he said that they would put it afore Emily and let her decide.
That was about the last dream the cook had that v'y'ge, although he told old Bill one day that he had 'ad the same dream about Joseph and Emily agin, so that he was quite certain they 'ad got to be married and killed. He wouldn't tell Bill 'ow they was to be killed, because 'e said it would make 'im an old man afore his time; but, of course, he 'ad to say that if they wasn't married the other part couldn't come true. He said that as he 'ad never told 'is dreams before—except in the case of Bill's leg—he couldn't say for certain that they couldn't be prevented by taking care, but p'r'aps, they could; and Bill pointed out to 'im wot a useful man he would be if he could dream and warn people in time.