“It does not hold more? I tell you plainly you have been too lazy to bring more, and who knows how you have turned the skins.”
Sandu grew red.
“Iotza, I learnt my work from the master and not from the workman.”
“And what next?”
“The next is, that I don’t need your advice.”
“We shall see,” cried Iotza, and went off.
Three days later the mistress came to the workshop; she walked about here and there, and after a while she looked at the vats and took out a skin.
“Who turned this vat?”
“I did,” replied Sandu.
“I thought as much! Now you—just come and look at your work! That’s how you turned it; that’s what the solution is like; that’s the kind of work you get paid for!”