ays arter the wedding. Don't say in wot way, 'cos she
might think we could avoid it; just dream we are killed. Bill's always
been a superstitious man, and since you dreamt about his leg he'd
believe anything; and he's that fond of Emily I believe he'd 'ave the
wedding put off, at any rate--if I put him up to it."

It took 'im three days and a silver watch-chain to persuade the cook,
but he did at last; and one arternoon, when old Bill, who was getting
on fust-class, was resting 'is leg in 'is bunk, the cook went below and
turned in for a quiet sleep.

For ten minutes he was as peaceful as a lamb, and old Bill, who 'ad been
laying in 'is bunk with an eye open watching 'im, was just dropping off
'imself, when the cook began to talk in 'is sleep, and the very fust
words made Bill sit up as though something 'ad bit 'im.

"There they go," ses the cook, "Emily Foster and Joseph Meek--and
there's old Bill, good old Bill, going to give the bride away. How 'appy
they all look, especially Joseph!"

Old Bill put his 'and to his ear and leaned out of his bunk.

"There they go," ses the cook agin; "but wot is that 'orrible black
thing with claws that's 'anging over Bill?"

Pore Bill nearly fell out of 'is bunk, but he saved 'imself at the last
moment and lay there as pale as death, listening.

"It must be meant for Bill," ses the cook, "Well, pore Bill; he won't
know of it, that's one thing. Let's 'ope it'll be sudden."

He lay quiet for some time and then he began again.

"No," he ses, "it isn't Bill; it's Joseph and Emily, stark and stiff,
and they've on'y been married a week. 'Ow awful they look! Pore things.
Oh! oh! o-oh!"

He woke up with a shiver and began to groan and then 'e sat up in his
bunk and saw old Bill leaning out and staring at 'im.

"You've been dreaming, cook," ses Bill, in a trembling voice.

"'Ave I?" ses the cook. "How do you know?"

"About me and my niece," ses Bill; "you was talking in your sleep."

"You oughtn't to 'ave listened," ses the cook, getting out of 'is bunk
and going over to 'im. "I 'ope you didn't 'ear all I dreamt. 'Ow much
did you hear?"

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."