Mark got up and went in to call his father. In a minute he was back with Mr. Tidd, who had his thumb in the _Decline and Fall_ and was blinking peaceful and looking as gentle and serene as a ten-year-old rabbit-hound. When Silas saw him coming he was like to have taken to his heels, and he fidgeted and moved from one foot to the other and twisted his fingers like he was trying to braid them, and breathed hard. You would have thought he was going to run into a tribe of massacreeing Injuns. Mr. Tidd stood on the top step and peered down at Silas with those mild eyes of his, and nodded, and says, “It’s Silas, hain’t it?” “Yes,” says Silas, with all the explosion gone out of his voice. “How you feelin’, Mr. Tidd? Be you patient and long-sufferin’ to-night, or be you kind of riled about somethin’? ’Cause if you be I kin come back to-morrow.” “I calc’late I feel perty peaceful, Silas. Wouldn’t you say I was feelin’ peaceful, Marcus Aurelius?” “I’d call you so,” says Mark. “You’ll need to be,” says Silas, “when I break it to you.” “Oh,” says Mr. Tidd, kind of vague, “you got somethin’ to break to me?” “You ought to know what,” says Silas. Mr. Tidd waggled his head and opened his book and shut it again, and scratched his leg. “Calc’late somebody must be sick,” says he. “’Tain’t that,” says Silas. “I hain’t much good at guessin’, Silas.... Say, Silas, set a minute and listen to this here passage out of Gibbon. I was just a-readin’ it over. You’ll find it jam full of pleasure and profit.” He leaned against a post and opened up the book, but Silas spoke up, anxious-like, and says: “I don’t calc’late I got any heart to listen to readin’, Mr. Tidd, and neither will you have when I git around to breakin’ it to you.” “No?” says Mr. Tidd. “Well, then, Silas, admittin’ you got somethin’ to break, why don’t you up and break it?” “Seems like I hain’t got the courage. I was hopin’ maybe you’d guess.” “I’m willin’ to try,” says Mr. Tidd, in that gentle voice of his. “I’ll guess maybe the house is on fire.” “What house?” says Silas, sort of taken by surprise. “Why,” says Mr. Tidd, as mild as could be, “_this_ house.” Silas looked up at the roof and craned his neck to peer around to the side. “_This_ house,” says he, all flabbergasted. “Say, if you think this house is on fire, why hain’t you doin’ somethin’ about it?” “Well,” said Mr. Tidd, “what would you advise doin’?” “Yellin’,” says Silas. “I hain’t much on yellin’,” says Mr. Tidd. “If my house was on fire I’d calc’late to make _some_ racket,” says Silas. “But I don’t _know_ this house is on fire. I jest guessed it was.” “Hain’t you goin’ to find out?” “Why,” says Mr. Tidd, “if it’s on fire we’ll find out quick enough, won’t we?”