"No, papa," answered Percy, with a grimace. "You know I don't like the smell of leather."
"I ought not to dislike it," said the squire, with a smile, "for it gives me a very handsome income."
"Oh, it's different with you," returned Percy. "Just give me the profits of the factory and I'll go there every day."
"He's a sharp one!" said the squire, with a smile.
"I am afraid he is too sharp to suit me," thought Uncle Jacob. "It seems to me the boy's mind runs upon money, and his own interests."
The shoe factory was a large building of two stories, and within it was a hive of industry.
As the squire led the way he explained the various workings to the old man, who was really curious and interested. It was on a larger scale than was common at the time he left for California, and the use of machinery had to a greater extent supplemented and superseded the work of the hands.
Finally they came to a room where several boys were pegging shoes, for this work was still done in the old-fashioned way. Uncle Jacob's eyes lighted up when in one of them he recognized Bert Barton.
He hurried forward, and put his hand on Bert's shoulder.
"So this is your business," he said.