"It isn't everybody who can run them." She wondered whether her visitors caught the unconscious air of pride which many of the women wore in this department.

At one end of the room a steady stream of rough castings came flowing in, while at the other end an equally steady volume of finished cones went flowing out.

Mary had always liked to watch the oscillators and as she stood there, her guests temporarily forgotten, her eyes filled with the almost human movements of the whirling machines, her ears with the triumphant music of the abrasive wheels biting into the metal, that same unconscious air of pride fell upon her, too, and although she didn't know it, her glance deepened and her head went up--quite in the old Spencer manner.
"Is their work fairly accurate ?" asked one of the visitors, breaking the spell.
"Let's go and see," said Mary, leading the way.
The cones left the grinders upon an endless conveyor which carried them to an inspection room.

Here at long tables were lines of attentive women, each with a set of gauges in front of her.

The visitors stopped behind one of these inspectors just as she picked up a cone to put it through its course of tests.
First she slipped it into a gauge to see if it was too large.