"It is funny, isn't it?" nodded the bookkeeper. "Now on this side of the room they are blending the fleeces. Sometimes we blend different qualities of wool to get a desired effect, or sometimes we blend the wool with cotton or a different fiber. We take a thin layer of wool, then put another layer of a different kind over it. We then pick it all up together until we get a uniform mixture."
"It is a surprise to me that the wool has to go through so much red tape before it comes to spinning," Thornton said.
"It is a long process," responded their guide. "I remember when I first saw it, it seemed endless. Now I think little of it."
"We get used to everything in time, I suppose," Thornton answered; then he added whimsically: "Still, I don't think I should ever get used to riding in an automobile."
A hearty laugh came from behind them, and turning they saw Mr. Clark and Mr. Munger, the manager.
"I came to hunt you up," said Mr. Clark. "I have finished my interview with Mr. Bailey, and it seemed to me that by this time you must have finished spinning your next-winter's overcoat, Don."
"But I haven't, father," retorted Donald, smiling into his father's face. "I have not even begun to make the cloth at all."
"The yarn is not spun yet, sir," put in the young man who was with them.
"You are a slow guide, Mac, I fear," Mr. Munger laughed, laying a kindly hand on his bookkeeper's shoulder. "That is the chief fault with you Scotchmen—you are too thorough. Now let us hurry along. These gentlemen must get back to Boston to-day, you know."
Mr. Munger bustled ahead, conducting his visitors across a bridge and into the next mill.