“So I do, Tom.”
“But that will only keep the pieces flat.”
“I beg your pardon, my boy. If we rub and grind them as I propose, one of the discs will be rounded and the other hollowed exactly as I wish.”
Tom stared, for this was to his way of thinking impossible.
“Are you sure you are right, uncle? Because if you are not, it would be so much trouble for nothing.”
“Let’s prove it,” said Uncle Richard, smiling. “Go to the kitchen door, and ask the cook for a couple of good-sized pieces of salt and the meat-saw.”
The cook stared, but furnished the required pieces, which were soon shaped into flat slabs with the saw. Then a sheet of newspaper was spread, and one of the flat pieces of salt placed upon the other.
“There you are, Tom,” said his uncle. “I want you to see for yourself; then you will work better. Now then, grind away, keeping the bottom piece firm, and the top going in circular strokes, the top passing half off the bottom every time.”
Tom began, and worked away, while from time to time the lower piece was turned round.
“Nice fine salt,” said Uncle Richard; “cook ought to be much obliged.”