"Dwell here for ever I shall," he cried to Madlen. "A
grand house I'll build--almost as grand as the houses of preachers."
In the fifth night he died, and before she began to weep, Madlen lifted
her voice: "There's silly, dear people, to covet houses! Only a smallish
bit of house we want."
IX
LIKE BROTHERS
Silas Bowen hated his brother John, but when he heard of John's
sickness, he reasoned: "Blackish has been his dealings. And trickish.
Sly also. Odd will affairs seem if I don't go to him at once."
At the proper hour he closed the door of his shop. Then he washed his
face, and put beeswax on the dwindling points of his mustache, and he
came out of Barnes into Thornton East; into High Road, where is his
brother's shop.
"That is you," said John to him.
"How was you, man?" Silas asked. "Talk the name of the old malady."
"Say what you have to say in English," John answered in a little voice.
"It is easier and classier."
That which was spoken was rendered into English; and John replied: "I am
pleazed to see you. Take the bowler off your head and don't put her on
the harimonium. The zweat will mark the wood.
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