"Do not mistake me, I would fain be of service to the Proprietors of the Engine for Raising Water by Fire," Daniel had insisted, on the twelfth day of Christmas, after Newcomen had stoked the boiler, and the Engine he had wrought, sucking and hissing like a dragon, had begun to pump water up out of Lostwithiel’s mill-pond, and into a cistern on the roof of his house. "But I do not have money."