'Nothin'! You've justabout hit it,' said Mr Springett, and
rammed his hot tobacco with his thumb.

'Take the art of wood-carving,'Hal went on. He reached across
the planks, grabbed a wooden mallet, and moved his other hand
as though he wanted something. Mr Springett without a word
passed him one of Dan's broad chisels. 'Ah! Wood-carving, for
example. If you can cut wood and have a fair draft of what ye
mean to do, a' Heaven's name take chisel and maul and let drive at
it, say I! You'll soon find all the mystery, forsooth, of wood-
carving under your proper hand!' Whack, came the mallet on the
chisel, and a sliver of wood curled up in front of it. Mr Springett
watched like an old raven.

'All art is one, man - one!' said Hal between whacks; 'and to
wait on another man to finish out -'

'To finish out your work ain't no sense,' Mr Springett cut in.
'That's what I'm always sayin' to the boy here.' He nodded
towards Dan. 'That's what I said when I put the new wheel into
Brewster's Mill in Eighteen hundred Seventy-two. I reckoned I
was millwright enough for the job 'thout bringin' a man from
Lunnon. An' besides, dividin' work eats up profits, no bounds.'

Hal laughed his beautiful deep laugh, and Mr Springett joined
in till Dan laughed too.

'You handle your tools, I can see,' said Mr Springett. 'I reckon,
if you're any way like me, you've found yourself hindered by
those - Guilds, did you call 'em? - Unions, we say.'