The Man. Why, fifty, more or less. The quickest hands can finish one in ten minutes.
Charles during this time was helping a little girl to pick up the loose locks of wool that were scattered over the floor. His brother turned round, and saw how he was employed. What should he do? Every one was busy besides himself, and he could not bear to be the only idle person. A message came to fetch away one of the women, whose task it was to roll up the fleeces and pile them together on a heap. Arthur offered to take her place; and, after a few trials, he learned to tie them up very dexterously. He continued at this employment for some time, and rejoiced to find himself of some use.
Mr. Mansfield at length called the two boys to go away. They immediately obeyed; and Charles, taking hold of his grandpapa’s hand, asked him if he did not think a sheep-shearing was a most charming thing.
Grandpapa. It does very well in its season, my dear boy. Wool is so useful, that the shearing-time always gives me pleasure.
Arthur. What shall you do with it, grandpapa?
Grandpapa. I shall sell it to the wool-stapler; and, after it has passed through the hands of different manufacturers, you may perhaps meet with it again in some shop, though so altered as not to be known for the same. It will then be in the shape of flannel, worsted, cloth, or perhaps some kind of stuff.
“That is all very droll,” said Charles. “But when will there be another sheep-shearing, grandpapa?”
“Not till this day twelvemonth, my dear,” returned Mr. Mansfield. “Wool does not grow very fast. In two or three weeks you will see the sheep covered with a little short wool; and the traces of the shears will then be worn away. As winter comes on, it grows thicker and longer; but that is not a time to rob them of their fleece. At last the year will come round, and then they will be again ready for the shearer.”
“I am fond of sheep,” said Arthur; “and I like little lambs, they look so innocent.”