"That's something, but it isn't good enough," Gregory answered. "You're fixed right now to handle three times what we're getting. And I'm paying for it. I'm not worrying about things in here, Mac. Everything is going fine."
He paused suddenly and his face glowed with enthusiasm as he walked nearer the cutting-bench.
"Look at the way those poor blind fellows are taking to their job, Mac," he whispered. "They can't tell black from white but watch them work. They'll be doing as much in a week as a man with two good eyes. How are you coming, Dorgan?"
He addressed a cutter working at the nearest bench. The blind man turned quickly.
"Fine, Capt. It's getting easier all the time. 'Twon't be long before I'll be making real wages at this job."
They passed from the blind cutters and came to the capping machine where a man with an artificial leg was being instructed in soldering the cans. Again Gregory's eyes expressed his satisfaction.
"That's fine, Carlson," he commended. "You're getting on fine."
The man at the machine nodded. "Nothing much to it," he answered cheerfully. "Got kind of tired standing at first. But I don't notice it much now."
Kenneth Gregory strove to express his appreciation of McCoy's work as they came to one of the empty warehouses, but the manager refused to take the credit.