"This kettle or tank of hot metal," went on Mr. Hawley, pointing to a vat of seething composition, "has to be kept, as I explained to you, at a specified degree of heat if we are to get successful stereotypes of our forms. Therefore a great deal depends on the skill and judgment of the man who prepares and melts down the mixture bubbling in that kettle. Without his brain and experience there could be no newspapers."
As he spoke Mr. Hawley waved a salutation to the workman in blue overalls who was studying the indicator beside the furnace.
"That indicator tells the exact temperature of the melted solution in the kettle; also the temperature of the furnace. There can be no variation in heat without hindering the work of casting, and perhaps wrecking the casts and wasting a quantity of material. So on that little chap over there by the fire hangs our fate."
The workman heard the words and smiled, and Paul smiled in return.
"Do they make stereotypes for circular rollers and print books this same way?" he asked.
"No. Most books are electrotyped, the machinery being much less complex than is the newspaper press. A rotary press cannot do such fine or accurate work."
For a moment they lingered, watching the busy scene with its shifting figures. Then they stepped into the elevator and were shot up to the street level. The hands of the clock stood at eleven when at last they emerged upon the sidewalk.
Paul sighed.
"Tired?"
"Rather, sir; aren't you?"