we'd feel responsible for your death, and we'd never enjoy another peaceful night's sleep because your spirit would 'aunt us.
Mrs. Benn.—Oh, 'e'd 'aunt us, I expect! (She sits on her heels with a worried look. Linton now arranges himself on half the quilt and draws the other half over him with a deprecating gesture.)
Linton.—Is this the way?
Benn.—Yes, yes, that's the w'y, Mr. Linton. And you could curl the end of the quilt under your 'ead for a pillow. (He arranges it for Linton.)
Linton (closing his eyes).—How comfortable! How warm!
Mrs. Benn (brightly).—Don't you think you'd better tike up your bed and walk now?
(Linton stretches out a trembling hand and clutches the hem of Mrs. Benn's apron.)
(Linton stretches out a trembling hand and clutches the hem of Mrs. Benn's apron.)
