"Thank you for coming."
"Of course we came, lass."
"At least it's over now."
"Over? What's over?"
"This steam nonsense."
"Tisn't nonsense, lass. Your grandfather died because he got the last bit working."
"It's still nonsense, Mr Iverson." She pointed at the "monster" in the work-yard. "What does it do that the mill doesn't do now?"
"It works when the water is frozen. It works when there is no breeze. It works when, and as hard, as we ask it to. And it eats coal or wood, not hay or grain.
"Your grandfather was right, and it's up to the rest of us to make it the success he knew it would be. Bradford Steam Works is ready to start offering stationary engines to mills and others, now, with your grandfather's invention of the automated condensing sprayer."
"Invention? What invention? You're just playing at being up-timers. There's nothing under the sun they didn't already try."
"Be that as it may, Victoria. Your grandfather's sprayer lets the steam condense fast enough that we don't have to have such a perfect fit in the piston. The leather seals are good enough to still generate the vacuum we need." Mr Iverson paused. "It's really too bad he bumped the valve while he was tightening the tie rod and was crushed like that. But thanks to your grandfather, lass, we get a good fast vacuum. If it didn't work so well, of course, he wouldn't have been killed, but thanks to your grandfather, when the steam goes away, the engine really sucks."