strain must have torn to atoms the fine amber coils in which it ejected
the strips of shining sliver. Enormous waste marked the operation.
Beneath the machine rose mounds of dust and dirt, and fluff, light as
thistledown; while as much was sucked away into the air by the exhaust
above.

In a lion-coloured overall and under a hat tied beneath her chin with a
yellow handkerchief, Sally Groves pursued her task. Then came to her
Sabina Dinnett and, ceasing not to spread her tow the while, Sally spoke
serious words.

"I asked Nancy Buckler to send you along when your machine stopped a
minute. You won't be vexed with me if I say something, will you?"

"Vexed with you, Sally? Who ever was vexed with you?"

"I'm old enough to be your mother, and 'tis her work if anybody's to
speak to you," explained Sally; "but she's not here, and she don't see
what I can't help seeing."

"What have you seen then?"

"I've seen a very good-looking young man by the name of Raymond Ironsyde
wasting a deuce of a lot of his time by your spinning frame; and wasting
your time, too."

Sabina changed colour.

"Fancy you saying that!" she exclaimed. "He's got to learn the
business--the practical side, Sally. And he wants to master it carefully