“Ah, yes!” said the doctor, sadly. “It’s the old story, you know—marrying and giving in marriage. What should we do for our population without?”
“Population don’t seem to keep you very busy, doctor.”
“Pretty well,” he said quietly: “pretty well; people have very large families about here, but they emigrate.”
“Do they?” said Geoffrey.
“Yes, the mining trade has been bad. But people have very large families about here,” said the doctor, with a sigh. “I’ve got ten of them.”
“Fruitful vine and olive branches round the table, eh?” said Geoffrey.
“Ye-es,” said the doctor, making an imaginary cast with his fly-rod over the heather; “but when the vine is too fruitful it rather shades the table, you know.”
“So I should suppose,” replied Geoffrey, with a slight grimace. “Have you good fishing here?”
“No—oh no! Nothing but small trout in the little streams, and they are getting poisoned by the mining refuse.”
“I’ll try them some day,” said Geoffrey.