"The other machines are good enough," said Philip Rice. "But the shingles from them are more or less rough, and contractors are apt to kick when they use them. These shingles, as you see, are as smooth as can be and will be worth a little more money in consequence."
After going through the mill, Owen visited the dry kiln. This was an exceedingly hot place, and he was glad to leave it and go into the immense yard to get the fresh air.
"Next year I am going to build an addition to the mill, and manufacture sashes and blinds, doors, and all kinds of trimmings," said Philip Rice.
"Can you get the trade for those things?"
"Indeed, I can. Why, I am now shipping goods to Denver and Omaha, as well as to points in the South, and last week a Chicago lumber dealer was here for shingles. Besides, we ship by water to half a dozen different countries. I could send stuff right to New York City if I wished."
"Where do you get your lumber?"
"All from up the river. Your people used to supply a good deal of it, but after you made that contract with the railroad I had to reach out further."
"I suppose Mr. Balasco made that contract, didn't he?"
"I think he did—he and a man named Hildan, who was in business with Balasco years ago. Your Mr. Wilbur wanted to keep on with me, so I understand."
This was said inquiringly, but Owen merely shrugged his shoulders.