"But I should think if plate glass—I mean polished plate," Jean hurriedly corrected her error, "has to be ground down so much there wouldn't be anything left of it. It must come out dreadfully thin."
"The casters have to consider that and allow for it," answered the Italian. "They expect part of the glass will have to be ground away, so they cast it thicker in the first place. A large, perfect sheet of polished plate is quite an achievement. From beginning to end it requires the greatest care, and if spoiled it is a big loss not only in actual labor but because of the amount of material required to make it. Even at the very last it may be injured in the warehouse either by scratching or breaking. It is there that it is cut in the size pieces desired."
"How?"
"With a rule and diamond point just such as is used for cutting sheet glass. The surface is scratched to give the line of fracture and then it is split evenly."
"I should hate to have the responsibility of cutting or handling it when it is all done," Jean observed with a little shiver.
"Well you might. Only men of the greatest skill and experience are allowed to touch the big, heavy sheets. The risk is too great. They turn only the best workmen into the plate glass department."
"But you work here, don't you, Giusippe?"
"I? Oh, I—I'm just learning," was the boy's modest reply.
"You seem to have learned pretty well," said a voice at his elbow.
Turning the lad was astonished to find Mr. Curtis standing just behind him.