There was silence: Roy broke it at last by saying with knitted brow,
"I'd rather be a maker than a mender, but lots of people aren't either."

"Quite right," nodded the old man; "most folk are breakers."

"I wish I was as clever as you," said Dudley; "you mend umbrellas, and
kettles, and plates, and windows, and gates, and all sorts. How did you
learn?"

"Well, I ain't ashamed of owning that my father was just a travelling
tinker, and when I was a little fellow I used to go round with him and
see him do most things. It was from travelling through the country I
learned to love it so. And my father, he was a thoughtful man, and when
I used to ask where the tin came from, and where the iron and where the
lead, he took to learning of it up so that he could answer me; and then
I came to find that most of our comforts come from underground, and so I
fell to digging. Ah, youngsters, earth is a wonderful treasure house!"

The clock was done. Old Principle put it carefully by and then mounted
on some wooden steps, and took down a tin saucepan. The boys knew the
shelf well; as though apparently it was just a row of tinware for sale,
many a pot and pan held treasures that geologists would have given a
great deal to possess.

Now when old Principle held out a peculiar shaped stone with loving
pride, Roy and Dudley pressed forward to look at it.

"I know, it's a Roman hammer," shouted out Dudley.

"It's a Saxon jug," suggested Roy.