"By Jove, and I don't wonder," said General Bothwell, combatively. "Instead of arranging for the outlet of the water, a telegraph line has been erected—no doubt at immense cost—to apprise people of the danger of a flood which may come in a month, a year—or never!" and he laughed derisively. "I think, whoever has hit on the _telegraph_ as a means of dealing with an engineering difficulty, will look uncommonly foolish." "I am the culprit," coolly confessed Gascoigne. "To divert the lake otherwise would cost two million of rupees; India is poor, and there is not time to erect masonry weirs, outfalls, and shoots." "And so," said Sir Cupid, "you have resolved to let it slide? And you believe there will be a big flood?" "Yes, I am sure of it," replied Gascoigne, with emphasis. "How I should like to see it." "I shall see it," announced Angel. "Philip has promised to take me with him." "Much against his will," he supplemented, with a laugh. "But I am going in spite of him," she answered, with a glance of gay defiance. "I was born in the Himalayas; I am a hill woman." "Yes; that is certain," said Sir Capel, promptly. "Pray, how do you know?" "Because you are not a plain woman." "How can you be so ridiculous?" she remonstrated, impatiently. "Surely you are not going off immediately," said Mrs. Alley-Lacy, "to see this wonderful dam?" bringing out the last word with considerable unction. "No, not just yet. I wish I were!" "And what will become of you?" "Mrs. Gascoigne and I are going to look after one another," volunteered Mrs. Waldershare, laying her hand on Angel's arm with an air of affectionate proprietorship. "I shall take care of her. She is left in my charge, is she not, Philip?" and she appealed to him with her eloquent eyes. Philip was considerably taken aback, but he rallied with his usual elasticity, and said: "Oh, Angel has an old head on young shoulders. I shall make her responsible for the house—and I shall ask Padre Eliot to keep an eye on both of you." "Well, Gascoigne," said General Bothwell, standing up and shaking crumbs out of his beard, "I must confess that I am amused at this scheme of yours—_I_ don't believe in scaring people, you know. I think you are on the wrong tack—the wrong tack—but you Engineer chaps are, in my experience, the most pig-headed branch of the service." "Still, sir, I think you must admit that we earn our bread and butter?" "Butter—oh, yes!—you get more than enough of that," retorted the General, pointedly. "You won't get any butter in Garhwal," announced Sir Capel, "of any sort or kind; only black bread and cucumbers—awful grub! I've been up reading a lot about this water-shoot—all the same I wish you'd take me with you, Gascoigne." "In what capacity." "Oh, as dhoby, dog boy, special correspondent—anything," and Sir Capel put his hands together, and his head on one side, and looked extremely ridiculous.