“But you don’t want money, father, do you?” said Gwyn. The Colonel stopped short, and faced round to gaze in his son’s face before bursting into a merry fit of laughter. “Have I said something very stupid, father?”
“No, not stupid—only shown me how inexperienced you are in the matters of everyday life, Gwyn. My dear boy, I never knew an officer on half-pay who did not want money.”
“But I thought you had enough.”
“Enough, boy? Someone among our clever writers once said that enough was always a little more than a man possessed.”
“But you will not begin mining, father?”
“I don’t know, my boy. Let’s have a look at the place. Here have we been these ten years, and I know no more about this hole than I did when I came. I know it is an old mine-shaft half full of water, just like a dozen more about the district, and I should have gone on knowing no more about it if that man had not begun talking, and shown me, by the great interest he takes in the place, that he thinks it must be rich. Be rather a nice thing to grow rich, my boy, and have plenty to start you well in the world.”
“But I don’t want starting well in the world, father; it’s nice enough as it is.”
“What, you idle, young dog! Do you expect to pass all your life fishing, bathing, and bird’s-nesting here?”
“No, father; but—”
“‘No, father; but—’ Humph! here’s the place, then. Dear me, how very unsafe that stone-wall is. A strong man could push it down the shaft in half-an-hour.”