It was soon after this that I went into the grinding-shop one day while the men were at dinner, and going to the door that opened into the wheel chamber, which always had a fascination for me, I stood gazing down into its depths and listening to the splashing water.
“Iver try to ketch any o’ them long eels, Mester Jacob?” said a familiar voice; and, starting and looking back, I saw that Gentles, the fat little grinder, was sitting down close to his wet grindstone eating his dinner, and cutting it with a newly ground knife blade forged out of our new steel.
“Eels, Gentles!” I said. “I didn’t know there were any there.”
“Oh, but there are,” he said; “straänge big ’uns. You set a line with a big bait on, and you’ll soon hev one.”
“What, down there by the wheel?”
“Ay, or oop i’ the dam. Plenty o’ eels, lad, theer.”
“I’ll have a try,” I said eagerly, for the idea of catching one or two of the creatures was attractive.
From that I got talking to the man about his work, and he promised to let me have a few turns at grinding.
“On’y, what am I to say if thee coots theesen?” he cried with a chuckle.
“Oh, but you’ll show me how to do it without!” I said laughing.