Doss had kept the water thirty-one years and she had a way of measuring things that had nothing to do with words, which was that a joint either held or it didn't, a pump either ran or it didn't, and a person either showed up for their shift or they didn't. By that measure the girl was slipping, and Doss had known it three weeks before she let herself say so, because you didn't say a thing like that out loud until you'd checked it twice, the way you didn't call a main broken until you'd walked the whole line.