“Well, but, sir—take a thought.”
“Not a word more, I implore you. I am the most miserable man that ever breathed.” As he spoke, two bitter tears forced their way.
Phoebe cast a look of pity on him, and said no more; but she shook her head. Her plain common sense revolted.
However, it did not follow he would be in the same mind next week: so she was in excellent spirits at her protege's recovery, and very proud of her cure, and celebrated the event with a roaring supper, including an English ham, and a bottle of port wine; and, ten to one, that was English too.
Dick Dale looked a little incredulous, but he did not spare the ham any the more for that.
After supper, in a pause of conversation, Staines turned to Dick, and said, rather abruptly, “Suppose that dam of yours were to burst and empty its contents, would it not be a great misfortune to you?”
“Misfortune, sir! Don't talk of it. Why, it would ruin us, beast and body.”
“Well, it will burst, if it is not looked to.”
“Dale's Kloof dam burst! the biggest and strongest for a hundred miles round.”
“You deceive yourself. It is not scientifically built, to begin, and there is a cause at work that will infallibly burst it, if not looked to in time.”