‘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 saying 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.[Pg 61] 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.’

‘You may say so!’ Hal pointed to a white scar on his cheek-bone. ‘This is a remembrance from the master watching Foreman of Masons on Magdalen Tower, because, please you, I dared to carve stone without their leave. They said a stone had slipped from the cornice by accident.’

‘I know them accidents. There’s no way to disprove ’em. An’ stones ain’t the only things that slip,’ Mr. Springett grunted. Hal went on: