“To the great Clatterby Works, where the big hammer is?”
“Well, I suppose it is to these works,” said Loo.
“Ay, Bob, to the Clatterby Works, lad; so you’re a made man if you only behave yourself and do your dooty,” said John Marrot in reply to his son’s look of inquiry.
In the strength of his satisfaction the boy rose, and, taking Loo round the neck, kissed her pretty mouth heartily, after which he bestowed the same favour on his mother and little Gertie, and looked as if he meant to do it to baby too, but he thought better of it.
“Why, mother,” he said, resuming his seat at the bedside, “these are the works where they’ve got the big hammers—so big, mother; oh! you’ve no notion how big they are, and heavy. Why, one of ’em is full five tons in weight—think o’ that! equal to five carts of coals, mother, all rolled into one.”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs Marrot.
“But it’s true,” said Bob, earnestly.
“Nonsense!” repeated Mrs Marrot; “w’y, what would be the use of a hammer as no one could lift?”
“Steam lifts it, mother,” said Bob, “as easy—yes, as easy as you lift the rollin’ pin.”
The unbelieving woman still shook her head, smiled, and said, “Nonsense!”