William smiled. The Quaker never bestowed decided praise, and never thought any one could be trusted in the making-up department, himself and James Meeking excepted. William had been exercised in the making-up for the past eighteen months, and he thought he ought to do it pretty well by this time. Mr. Lynn was turning away, when his keen sight fell on several dozens at a little distance. He took up one of the top pairs with a hasty movement, knitted his brow, and then took up others.
"Thee has not exercised thy judgment or thy caution here, friend William."
"I did not make up those," replied William.
"Who did, then?"
"Cyril Dare."
"I have told Cyril Dare he is not to attempt the making-up," returned Samuel Lynn, in severe tones. "When did he do these?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"There, again! He knows the gloves are not made up in a winter's afternoon. I myself would not do it by so obscure a light. Thee go over these thyself when thee has finished the stack before thee."
Samuel Lynn was not one who spared work. He mixed the offending dozens together indiscriminately, and pushed them towards William. Then he turned to his own place, and went on with his work: he was also making up. Presently he spoke again.
"What does thee do at the back of my house of a night? Thee must find the walk cold."