“What makes our flour? Iron grinding machines.
“What heats our houses? Iron stoves. What——”
Pausing a moment for breath, he thrust his thumbs under his suspenders. Happening to hit the buckles, he began again:
“What holds our clothes together? Iron buckles, iron buttons,” he said with emphasis.
Pausing again, he looked up.
“What,” he said, pointing dramatically at the telephone wire, “carries our messages from land to land, from shore to shore? Iron.”
He paused again. Seeing that he had Billy’s attention, Tom looked at him a moment in silence.
“William,” he said so suddenly that Billy fairly jumped, “those very shoes that you are a-standin’ in are held together by iron nails!”
Then, leaning forward, with his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, he concluded:
“William, as far as I can see, if it wasn’t for iron, we should all be just nothin’, nobody.”