and on this inspection morning Joyce had to
keep reminding herself that she had come, primarily, to study the
workmen and not the process, so absorbed did she frequently become in
the latter.

The Early Works made a specialty of flint-glass crystal, and cut and
engraved ware for domestic and ornamental use, also of the finer
qualities of shades for lamps and chandeliers. As Joyce lingered again
and again to watch the swift and graceful shaping of the molten
substance, while airy stem or globe were blown into being by the breath
of man, to be afterwards carved into exquisite designs upon the
emery-wheel, or graven against the spindle, all with a dexterity that
seemed simply marvelous to her ignorance, she decided in her own mind
that a master at glass working was not an artisan, but an artist.

Mr. Dalton seemed amused at her child-like delight, and tried to explain
all she observed in language not too technical for her comprehension.
But often she became too absorbed to question, or even listen, at which
times he stood silently by, watching with open admiration her fair,
expressive face.

Dalton was, in a sense, a self-made man, having begun as stoker of one
of the annealing furnaces when both he and the Works were young. He had
climbed steadily, serving his apprenticeship in each department, and
studying at a night-school, when such were in operation, until the
sudden demise of Mr. Early had lifted him from the position of foreman
to that of manager, by right of a thorough understanding of the
business. He was a plain thoughtful-seeing man, in his thirties, who
showed by his terse speech, practical manner, and business garb that he
had no intention of forgetting his work-a-day life in his present
elevation. Perhaps he had never so keenly felt how entirely it had been
a work-a-day life until this morning.

After a time Joyce ceased to feel dazed over the dull roar of the
furnaces, the flash and glow of the fiery masses of molten glass as
lifted from the pots, the absorbing sight of the blowing, rolling,
clipping, joining, cutting, and engraving, and the precision and silence
of the white-aproned, sometimes mask-protected workmen. She could begin
to notice individuals and study faces.

She stopped, finally, close by the marver of a young man--boy she called
him to herself--the precision of whose workmanship was that of a
machine. He was shaping a slender, long-stemmed, pitcher-like vase made
in three parts, foot,