added
to Mr. Van der Westhuizen, "I don't believe you've seen these." Diving
into the case, he brought up a large packet of the most worn-out paper
of all. There was a little hole at the corner where it had been wrapped
once too often; a blue diamond nearly slipped out as he lifted it. But
then, I've seen lots of diamonds fall to the floor and roll into the
corner; somehow or other they are always found again without much
trouble. They are easy to see.
The
dealer unwrapped and displayed a splendid collection. They were all cut
stones; several ambers, quite a few blues, two lovely pinks, and one
that was nearly purple, as well as a few very clear greenish ones that
I didn't like to say looked exactly like aquamarines. Their owner
smiled at our enthusiasm: it was a pleased, proud smile. "I've been
making this collection ever since I went into the business," he said,
wrapping them up again, "and that's nearly forty years. It's my hobby,
fancies. My wife thinks I'm crazy. Now, that's a funny thing; she
doesn't like diamonds at all; never wears any, nor my daughter either.
They want me to quit the business. My son's the same, he's never shown
any interest in diamonds. After me all the time to give up, sell out,
and settle down with him on the family farm."
"What
about the breakwater? —Here's one of our leading breakwater men," said
Mr. Van der Westhuizen to me in explanation. "He can tell you all
about it. It's the way to make money fast."
The
dealer said, "Oh, I don't know, you can lose money too. That last one
of mine cost ten thousand pounds. But then, I expect I'll make it back
again on the next one. ... I don't know. Perhaps I ought to retire like
the boy says."
