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Updated: May 13, 2025
In the meantime they prepared simple parts of the work and made themselves useful in any direction they were able, even running errands or standing at the shop door and coaxing the passers-by to come in and purchase." "Pretty primitive advertising," smiled Christopher. "Advertising was primitive in those days," agreed McPhearson.
The promptness of the concession was anything but comforting. Obviously McPhearson felt that in the present instance, at least, the tip offered had been both valueless and absurd. A strained silence fell between them. "I suppose we may as well hail another bus and get back to the store," the clock repairer at length suggested. "There's no good hanging round here."
"You haven't finished that bracket clock yet, have you, McPhearson?" called the salesman, approaching a little old man who with a microscope to one eye was bending over a bench littered with small steel tools. "Not yet, Bailey," the clockmaker replied without, however, looking up. "She's a queer piece, that clock not one for ordinary treatment."
You don't seem very triumphant about it." The old man peered at the boy over the top of his glasses. "I'm not. It made me sick the whole thing." "I know, sonny I know. But we can't have such persons about," McPhearson said gently. "Of course you are sorry to put a fellow behind the bars, but " "He was so darned decent about it and so plucky," exclaimed Christopher.
As it is I consider we stand on rather delicate ground when we berate either a clock or a watch especially an old one." "Mr. McPhearson is fixing now a bracket clock made about 1720." "He is? That means it has ticked and ticked over two hundred years, doesn't it! Neither your machinery nor mine will last that long. Think of the changes a veteran like that has outlived.
"It is never all loss without some gain, is it?" smiled Christopher. "And clocks?" "Clocks, too, were sharing the general improvement," answered McPhearson. "The old system of the balance with its accompanying weights and chains had passed, and the pendulum, now becoming less of a puzzle, was coming into vogue.
As they went out to board a returning bus, Christopher remarked regretfully: "I'd have given a cent to see the rest of those clocks." "What clocks?" inquired McPhearson with surprise. "Why, Mr. Hawley's." The Scotchman halted abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. "My goodness!" ejaculated he. "I never thought of it! Why under the sun didn't you speak up, laddie?"
And to prove it, they were now giving him a present. Mr. Rhinehart, Hollings, McPhearson, old Saunders all of them had had a part in it and they said it was because they had become fond of him and admired him for being so cheerful and patient about his eyes. Their kindness overwhelmed him and brought a queer, tight, choky feeling into his throat. He didn't deserve any of the things Mr.
The crude fusee of Zech had to be perfected by Gruet, another Swiss clockmaker, and by still others. Nevertheless the scheme did work and caused a revolution in clock and watch making. There was now some hope that ultimately timepieces would furnish correct time, which after all is, I suppose, the only excuse a clock has for being." McPhearson brought from his bag a small copper oil can.
"Not the remotest," came frankly from Christopher. They both laughed. "Well, what I am talking about is our dead beat escapement." "And what might that be?" McPhearson became thoughtful.
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