mall boy, in whom he
involuntarily took a great and sudden interest--he looked so small, so
thin, so intelligent, and, withal, so busy.

"Ah, you may well look at him," said Will Garvie, observing Bob's gaze.
"That boy is one of the best workers of his age in the shop."

"What is 'e doin'?" inquired Bob.

"He's preparin' nuts for screws," replied Will, "and gets one penny for
every hundred. Most boys can do from twelve to fourteen hundred a day,
so, you see, they can earn from six to seven shillin's a week; but that
little feller--they call him Tomtit Dorkin--earns a good deal more, I
believe, and he has much need to, for he has got an old granny to
support. That's the work that you are soon to be set to, lad."

"Is it?" said Bob, quite pleased at the notion of being engaged in the
same employment with Tomtit; "I'm glad to 'ear it. You see, mother,
when you gits to be old an' 'elpless, you'll not need to mind, 'cause
_I'll_ support you."

The next place they visited was the great point of attraction to Bob.
It was the forge where the heavy work was done, and where the celebrated
hammer and terrific pair of scissors performed their stupendous work.

At the time the visitors entered this department the various hammers
chanced to be at rest, nevertheless even Mrs Marrot's comparatively
ignorant mind was impressed by the colossal size and solidity of the
iron engines that surrounded her. The roof of the shed in which they
stood had been made unusually high in order to contain them.

"Well, I s'pose the big 'ammer that Bob says is as 'eavy as five carts
of coals must be 'ereabouts?" observed Mrs Marrot looking round.

"Yes, there it is," said Will, pointing in front of him.

"W'ere? I don't see no 'ammer."

"Why there, that big thing just before you," he said, pointing to a
machine of iron, shaped something like the letter V turned upside down,
with its two limbs on the earth, its stem lost in the obscurity of the
root and having a sort of tongue between the two limbs, which tongue was
a great square block of solid iron, apparently about five feet high and
about three feet broad and deep. This tongue, Will Garvie assured his
companion, was the hammer.

"No, no, Willum," said Mrs Marrot, with a smile, "you mustn't expect me
for to believe that. I _may_ believe that the moon is made of green
cheese, but I won't believe that that's a 'ammer."

"No: but _is_ it, Bill?" asked Bob, whose eyes gleamed with suppr