'Lizabeth stepped before him.
"Hush! You mustn't." "'Mustn't ?' That's a bold word." "Well, then--'can't.' Sit down, I tell you." "Hullo! Ain't you coming the mistress pretty free in this house?
Stand aside.

I've got something to tell him--something that won't wait.
Stand aside, you she-cat!" He pushed by her roughly, but she held on to his sleeve.
"It _must_ wait.

Listen to me." "I won't." "You shall.

He's dead." "_Dead!_" He reeled back to the table and poured out another glassful with a shaking hand.

'Lizabeth noticed that this time he added no water.
"He died to-night," she explained; "but he's been ailin' for a year past, an' took to his bed back in October." William's face was still pallid; but he merely stammered-- "Things happen queerly.