cold metal had been clay, and all with the lathe and a piece of
wood. There are no chips, no scrapings. All the metal is in the pot,
and that is now passed on to have four legs soldered on, a hole cut for
the spout to be fitted; a handle placed where the handle should be, and
finally hinges and a lid and polish to make it perfect and ready for
someone's tray.

I stopped and saw the workman spin a couple of pots, and then thinking I
should like to have a try at one of our lathes, I went on past this dam
and on to the next, where I meant to have a friendly word with Mrs
Gentles if her lord and master were not smoking by the door.

I did not expect to see him after hearing that he was away at work; but
as it happened he was there.

For as I reached the path along by the side of the dam I found myself in
the midst of a crowd of women and crying children, all in a state of
great excitement concerning something in the dam.

I hurried on to see what was the matter, and to my astonishment there
was Gentles on the edge of the dam, armed with an ordinary long broom,
with which he was trying to hook something out of the water--what, I
could not see, for there was nothing visible.

"Farther in--farther in," a shrill voice cried, making itself heard over
the gabble of fifty others. "My Jenny says he went in theer."

I was still some distance off, but I could see Gentles the unmistakable
splash the broom in again, and then over and over again, while women
were wringing their hands, and giving bits of advice which seemed to
have no effect upon Gentles, who kept splashing away with the broom.

Just then a tall figure in bonnet and shawl came hurrying from the other
end of the path, and joined the group about the same time as I did.

There was no mistaking Mrs Gentles without her voice, which she soon
made heard.

"Whose bairn is it?" she cried loudly, and throwing off her bonnet and
shawl as she spoke.

"Thine--it's thy little Esau--playing on the edge--got shoved in," was
babbled out by a dozen women; while Gentles did not speak, but went on
pushing in the broom, giving it a mow round like a scythe, and pulling
it out.

"Wheer? Oh, my gracious!" panted Mrs Gentles, "wheer did he go in?"

Poor woman! A dozen hands pointed to different parts of the bank many
yards apart, and I saw her turn quite white as she rushed at her husband
and tore the broom from his hands.

"What's the good o' that, thou Maulkin," [scarecrow]