“Of course not, but as soon as you’ve had some breakfast, do have it done.”
“All right, sir, all right; and thankye heartily for what you say. Why, dear lad, you make as much fuss over me, and my damaged post, as if it was your uncle, or your father, or somebody else. It’s very good of you, Mr Dale, sir.”
“Are you stopping to hargy anything, Neb, old man?” cried Barney, who had returned.
“No, mate, I arn’t.”
“Well, then, come on. Yer can’t ’spect the young lady to stand all day a-holding the coffee-pot up in the air, while you’re a-talking out all the breath in your chest. Do send him on, sir.”
“All right; coming,” growled Dumlow, and he went on, leaving me to fight with the fire, listening to the hissing and sputtering of the steam, fire, and water, and to the steady clang-clank of the pump.
It was strange how shut in I seemed, and how lonely, in the midst of that white vapour; but it did not seem very long before the men returned to pass by on the other side, and after I had waited for the slight cessation of the water which followed, telling me that there was a fresh change being made at the pumps, I soon heard voices, and Mr Frewen came up to me to pass to the cabin.
“Going to have some breakfast?” I shouted. “Isn’t it Mr Preddle’s turn too?”
“Yes,” he squeaked, from over the other side; “I’m going too, but it’s very hard work passing along here. Dale, my dear boy.”
“Yes, Mr Preddle.”