“No good to try, sir. Some o’ the mines aren’t paying, and some on ’em’s not working at all. Ydoll’s in full fettle, and you want more men. Ask the guv’nors to take me on again, sir.”
“Yes, do, Gwyn,” said Joe. “It must be very hard for a man to want work, and find that no one will give him a job.”
“Hard, sir? That aren’t the word for it. Makes a man feel as if he’d like to jump off the cliff, so as to be out of his misery. Do ask ’em, sir, and I’ll never forget it. If I did wrong, I’ve paid dear for it. But no one can say I didn’t work hard to do good to the mine.”
“Well, I’ll ask my father when he comes back to the office.”
“Won’t you ask him now, sir?”
“I don’t know where he is. And as for you, I should advise you not to go near my dog; I don’t want to hear that he has bitten you.”
“Oh, he won’t bite me, sir, if you tell him not. We shall soon make friends. Do ask soon, and let me stop about to hear, and get out of my misery.”
“You will not have to stop long, Tom Dinass,” said Gwyn, as a step outside was heard—the regular martial tread of the old soldier, who seemed to be so much out of place amongst all the mining business.
“Yes; here comes the Colonel,” said Joe, quickly; and he went and opened the door to admit the stiff, upright, old officer.
“Thank you, Jollivet,” he said. “Hallo! What does this man want?”