“It will be as flat as flat,” said Tom to himself, “but I don’t like to tell him so.”
“There, that will do,” said Uncle Richard, at the end of ten minutes. “Now then, are the pieces both flat?”
“No, uncle; the bottom piece is rounded and the top hollowed, but I can’t see why.”
“Then I’ll tell you: because the centre gets rubbed more than the sides, Tom. There, take paper and salt back, and we’ll begin.”
Tom caught up the paper, and soon returned, eager to commence; and after a little instruction as to how he was to place his hands upon the top glass, Uncle Richard placed himself exactly opposite to his nephew, with the upturned cask between them.
“Now, Tom, it will be a very long and tedious task with this great speculum; hot work for us too, so we must do a bit now and a bit then, so as not to weary ourselves out. Ready?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Then off.”
“It will be a tiresome job,” thought Tom, as, trying hard to get into regular swing with his uncle, the top glass was pushed to and fro from one to the other; but at each thrust Uncle Richard made a half step to his left, Tom, according to instructions, the same, so that the glass might be ground regularly all over. At the end of a quarter of an hour it was slid on one side, and more water and sand applied. Then on again, and the grinding continued, the weight of the glass making the task very difficult. But Tom worked manfully, encouraged by his uncle’s assurance that every day he would grow more accustomed to the work, and after two more stoppages there was a cessation.
“There!” cried Uncle Richard; “one hour’s enough for the first day. It wants faith to go on with such a business, Tom.”