He says to look around me.

They is all kinds of glassware in that room--bottles and jars and queer-shaped things with crooked tails and noses--and nigh every piece of glass the perfessor owns is made by that company.
"Why," says the perfessor, "their factory is in this very town." And nothing would do fur me but I must go and see that factory.

I couldn't till the quarantine was pried loose from our house.

But when it was, I went down town and hunted up the place and looked her over.
It was a big factory, and I was kind of proud of that.

I was glad she wasn't no measly, little, old-fashioned, run-down concern.