“What next then?” said Tom eagerly.
“The next grade of emery, boy,” was the reply; “our task is of course now not to grind the speculum deeply, but to grind out all these scratches till it is as limpid as the surface of pure water.”
“Don’t look possible,” said Tom. “Well, we will try.”
The next morning they worked for an hour before breakfast in precisely the same way, gave a couple of hours to the task after breakfast, two more in the afternoon, and one in the evening—“a regular muscle-softener,” Uncle Richard called it; but when for the last time the finely-ground emery number two was washed off, and the speculum examined, its surface looked much better, the rougher scratchings having disappeared.
Tom was all eagerness to begin the next day, when the number three emery was tried in precisely the same way. Then came work with the number four, very little of which was used at a time; and when this was put aside for number five, Tom again cheered, for the concave surface had become beautifully fine.
“Two more workings, and then the finishing,” said Uncle Richard. “Think we shall polish out all the scratchings?”
“Why, they are gone now,” cried Tom.
“Yes, it shows what patience will do,” said Uncle Richard; “a man can’t lift a house all at once, but he could do it a brick at a time.”
The speculum was carefully placed aside after its cleansing, and the pair of amateur opticians locked up the place after hanging up their aprons.
“Wouldn’t do to break that now, Tom, my boy.”