“Let’s try this out-building,” Penny suggested, indicating a long, low structure made of cement building blocks which was roofed with tin. A sign dangling above the door proclaimed that it was the foundry and machine shop of one Seth McGuire, maker of bells and clocks.
As the girls peered through the open door an arresting sight met their gaze. Through clouds of smoke they saw a spry old man directing the movements of a muscular youth who pulled a large pot-shaped crucible of molten metal on an overhead pulley track.
“Are you Seth McGuire?” Penny shouted to make herself heard above the noise of running machinery.
The old man, turning his head, waved them back.
“Don’t come in here now!” he warned. “It’s dangerous. Wait until we pour the bell.”
With deft, sure hands, the old fellow pulled control chains attached to the crucible. The container twisted and finally overturned, allowing the molten metal to pour into a bell-shaped mold. As the last drops ran out of it, a great cloud of steam arose, enveloping both the old man and his helper.
“Won’t they be burned?” Louise murmured in alarm, moving hastily backwards.
“Mr. McGuire seems to know what he’s doing,” Penny answered, watching with interest.
In a moment the steam cleared away, and the old man motioned that the girls might come inside.
“You’ll have to excuse my manners,” he apologized, his mild blue eyes regarding them with a twinkle. “Pouring a bell is exacting work and you can’t stop until it’s done.”