William Smith, the practical, the indefatigable, the restless, the dauntless, the man of action, who seemingly could do without sleep, and who had become a hero by contact with opportunity--(well, that is my opinion, and I alone am responsible for what is here written)--William Smith, I say, burst into the room, crying:
"Come, Philip, come! To the Margaret reef!"
Margaret darted out of Philip's arms; she would not let all the world see. Smith knew how matters stood between Philip and Margaret, and he winked at Mr. Hart, and did not look at the lovers--that is, significantly.
"Ah!" said Philip, reluctantly coming back to earth--and water, I might say; "the dam!"
"Yes," said William Smith, "the dam. I told you you might pray for rain. Now pray for the dam."
"I know a prayer," thought Philip and prayed; "Margaret!"
"You get to bed, my girl," said William Smith to Margaret; "all the danger's over now, and all the harm's done. The horses are outside."
"I shall want one," put in Mr. Hart.
"You!" exclaimed William Smith. "What interest have you in the dam? See to your theatre."
"What interest!" said Philip. "Why, he happens to be a shareholder in the Margaret Reef. Didn't you know?"