“Now for a few hours’ polishing,” said Uncle Richard the next morning, as he took up the curved pitch tool and moistened it, no longer with emery, but with fine moistened rouge; “and if I am successful in slightly graduating off the sides here, and flattening them in an infinitesimal degree, we shall have a good reflector for our future work.”
But upon testing it the result that evening was not considered satisfactory. There were several zones to be corrected.
It was the same the next day, and the next. But on the fourth Uncle Richard cried “Hold: enough! I think that is as good as an amateur can make a speculum, and we’ll be content.”
That night Tom slept so soundly that he did not dream till morning, and then it was of the sun resenting being looked at, and burning his cheek, which possessed some fact, for the blind was a little drawn on one side, and the bright rays were full upon his face.
“All that time spent in making the reflector!” thought Tom; “and all that work. I wonder what the next bit will be.”
Chapter Sixteen.
“Now, uncle, what’s the next thing to be done?” said Tom at breakfast that morning.
“I think we may begin the body of the telescope now, Tom,” said his uncle.