"It seems to me that these rags have to go through different machines enough before they get ready for use. I wonder what the next step is?" said Fred.
"Only one more machine—the one where you saw me fill my basket with flocks. I suppose you noticed that it had a big hopper on top? Well, we just turn these dry lumps right in here, and let them grind out as fast as they will."
"Then I've been the rounds of our work, have I?" asked Fred.
"Yes, unless Mr. Hanks makes you lug the cloth down."
"Am I supposed to obey him?"
"Yes, he's your boss; and you will be lucky if you have no trouble with him."
"I shall try to have no trouble, even if he is as disagreeable as he looks; but I will not be crowded too much."
"I wouldn't if I was strong like you," returned Carl sadly.
"I thought Mr. Farrington had charge of this room," said Fred, after a pause.
"He does; though I believe he had a lot of trouble to keep these flockers a-going; it is such bad, dirty work that no one would stay on them. So he made a trade with Mr. Hanks, and let him the job of making the flocks and putting them into the cloth, and agreed to furnish him two boys. I don't know how much pay he gets out of it, but Jack Hickey, that's scouring the wool there in the other corner, says he is making money out of us every day; besides, he shirks the work upon us, and we have it almost all to do."