I went on out. Raoul, standing under the dripping eaves, was just hoisting an umbrella, and I took advantage of it and went over to the bottling works.
"We're making quite a lot of money," said I, looking over the order book and ledger.
Raoul smiled and ran his well shaped fingers through his curly hair.
"It's good spring-water," he said, "and God permits you an innocent income not wrung out of the poor, not cheated out of the less fortunate, not gouged out of business rivals whose loss is your gain."
I also smiled: "It is quite true, Raoul, that I do harm to nobody by bottling and selling the water which God has seen fit to send out gushing from these deep rocks."
"You'd never harm anybody anyway!" he said coolly. "One knows a gentleman."
And he went about his work, singing the song he seemed always to prefer——
"Crack-brain-cripple-arm,
You have done a heap of harm——"
And I began to wonder how the Queen would like that song if he came carelessly caroling it in her vicinity.
However, it was not my business to direct the musical inclinations of my household. I took the umbrella and, stepping to the door, spread it.