“Ready!” he roared, as Will’s father and Josh came out of the open office door laden with heavy ledgers.
“All right!” shouted Will. “Now, boys, all together—pump!”
Cling, clang! Cling, clang! Cling clang! Three times over, the handles rose and fell with a strange, weird sound, and then, as if moved by one impulse, the workers stopped, and, sounding strangely incongruous, a man whose voice was blurred by the north-west country burr shouted—
“Why, t’owd poomp wean’t soock!”
“Nay,” cried another; “I never had no faith in t’owd mawkin of a thing. She’s only fit to boon the roads.”
“What’s the matter?” shouted Manners.
“I don’t know,” cried Will, despondently; “it won’t go.”
“Are the pipes screwed on right?” said Manners.
“Yes.”
“Is your end down in the water?”